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THE  WORKS  OF 

OSCAR  WILDE 

Ravenna  Edition 

14  Volumes . Uniform  in  Flexible  Leathtf 

THE  PICTURE  OF  DORIAN  GRAY. 

LORD  ARTHUR  SAVILE'S  CRIME, 

AND  OTHER  STORIES. 

THE  DUCHESS  OF  PADUA. 

LADY  WINDERMERE'S  FAN. 

A WOMAN  OF  NO  IMPORTANCE. 

AN  IDEAL  HUSBAND. 

THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  BEING  EARNEST. 

A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES. 

INTENTIONS. 

ESSAYS. 

DE  PROFUNDIS  AND  PRISON  LETTERS. 
SALOME,  LA  SAINTE  COURTISANE. 

POEMS. 

VERA 


The  Works  of 

Oscar  Wilder 


A House  of 

Pomegranates 


The  Happy  Prince 

And  Other  Tales 


G.  P.  Putnam’s  Sons 
New  York  and  London 
tEbe  ifcmcfcerbocfser  press 


BOSTON  COLLfeS*  UBRAK1 
CHESTNBT  H!U.  MASS, 


Including 


mtwctumiwMJ* 
gnMl*  *BU 


TO 


CONSTANCE  MARY  WILDE 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  YOUNG  KING 1 

THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  ...  31 

THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  ...  73 

THE  STAR-CHILD 147 

THE  HAPPY  PRINCE 183 


V 


THE  YOUNG  KING 


TO 

MARGARET  LADY  RROOKE 
[the  ranee  of  Sarawak] 


THE  YOUNG  KING 

IT  was  the  night  before  the  day  fixed  for  his 
coronation,  and  the  young  King  was  sitting 
alone  in  his  beautiful  chamber.  His  courtiers 
had  all  taken  their  leave  of  him,  bowing  their 
heads  to  the  ground,  according  to  the  ceremonious 
usage  of  the  day,  and  had  retired  to  the  Great 
Hall  of  the  Palace,  to  receive  a few  last  lessons 
from  the  Professor  of  Etiquette ; there  being 
some  of  them  who  had  still  quite  natural  manners, 
which  in  a courtier  is,  I need  hardly  say,  a very 
grave  offence. 

The  lad — for  he  was  only  a lad,  being  but 
sixteen  years  of  age — was  not  sorry  at  their 
departure,  and  had  flung  himself  back  with  a 
deep  sigh  of  relief  on  the  soft  cushions  of  his 
embroidered  couch,  lying  there,  wild-eyed  and 
open-mouthed,  like  a brown  woodland  Faun,  or 
some  young  animal  of  the  forest  newly  snared  by 
the  hunters. 


A 


2 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


And,  indeed,  it  was  the  hunters  who  had 
found  him,  coming  upon  him  almost  by  chance 
as,  bare-limbed  and  pipe  in  hand,  he  was  following 
the  flock  of  the  poor  goatherd  who  had  brought 
him  up,  and  whose  son  he  had  always  fancied 
himself  to  be.  The  child  of  the  old  King's  only 
daughter  by  a secret  marriage  with  one  much 
beneath  her  in  station — a stranger,  some  said, 
who,  by  the  wonderful  magic  of  his  lute-playing, 
had  made  the  young  Princess  love  him  ; while 
others  spoke  of  an  artist  from  Rimini,  to  whom 
the  Princess  had  shown  much,  perhaps  too  much 
honour,  and  who  had  suddenly  disappeared  from 
the  city,  leaving  his  work  in  the  Cathedral  un- 
finished— he  had  been,  when  but  a week  old, 
stolen  away  from  his  mother's  side,  as  she  slept, 
and  given  into  the  charge  of  a common  peasant 
and  his  wife,  who  were  without  children  of  their 
own,  and  lived  in  a remote  part  of  the  forest, 
more  than  a day’s  ride  from  the  town.  Grief,  or 
the  plague,  as  the  court  physician  stated,  or,  as 
some  suggested,  a swift  Italian  poison  adminis- 
tered in  a cup  of  spiced  wine,  slew,  within  an  hour 
of  her  wakening,  the  white  girl  who  had  given 


THE  YOUNG  KING 


3 


him  birth,  and  as  the  trusty  messenger  who  bare 
the  child  across  his  saddle-bow  stooped  from  his 
weary  horse  and  knocked  at  the  rude  door  of  the 
goatherd's  hut,  the  body  of  the  Princess  was 
being  lowered  into  an  open  grave  that  had  been 
dug  in  a deserted  churchyard,  beyond  the  city 
gates,  a grave  where  it  was  said  that  another 
body  was  also  lying,  that  of  a young  man  of 
marvellous  and  foreign  beauty,  whose  hands 
were  tied  behind  him  with  a knotted  cord, 
and  whose  breast  was  stabbed  with  many  red 
wounds. 

Such,  at  least,  was  the  story  that  men  whis 
pered  to  each  other.  Certain  it  was  that  the 
old  King,  when  on  his  deathbed,  whether  moved 
by  remorse  for  his  great  sin,  or  merely  desiring 
that  the  kingdom  should  not  pass  away  from 
his  line,  had  had  the  lad  sent  for,  and,  in  the 
presence  of  the  Council,  had  acknowledged  him 
as  his  heir. 

And  it  seems  that  from  the  very  first  moment 
of  his  recognition  he  had  shown  signs  of  that 
strange  passion  for  beauty  that  was  destined  to 
have  so  great  an  influence  over  his  life.  Those 


4 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


who  accompanied  him  to  the  suite  of  rooms  set 
apart  for  his  service,  often  spoke  of  the  cry  of 
pleasure  that  broke  from  his  lips  when  he  saw 
the  delicate  raiment  and  rich  jewels  that  had 
been  prepared  for  him,  and  of  the  almost  fierce 
joy  with  which  he  filing  aside  his  rough  leathern 
tunic  and  coarse  sheepskin  cloak.  He  missed, 
indeed,  at  times  the  fine  freedom  of  his  forest 
life,  and  was  always  apt  to  chafe  at  the  tedious 
Court  ceremonies  that  occupied  so  much  of  each 
day,  but  the  wonderful  palace — Joyeuse , as  they 
called  it — of  which  he  now  found  himself  lord, 
seemed  to  him  to  be  a new  world  fresh-fashioned 
for  his  delight ; and  as  soon  as  he  could  escape 
from  the  council-board  or  audience-chamber,  he 
would  run  down  the  great  staircase,  with  its 
lions  of  gilt  bronze  and  its  steps  of  bright  por- 
phyry,  and  wander  from  room  to  room,  and 
from  corridor  to  corridor,  like  one  who  was  seek- 
ing to  find  in  beauty  an  anodyne  from  pain,  a 
sort  of  restoration  from  sickness. 

Upon  these  journeys  of  discovery,  as  he  would 
call  them — and,  indeed,  they  were  to  him  real 
voyages  through  a marvellous  land,  he  would 


THE  YOUNG  KING 


6 


sometimes  be  accompanied  by  the  slim,  fair- 
haired Court  pages,  with  their  floating  mantles, 
and  gay  fluttering  ribands  ; but  more  often  he 
world  be  alone,  feeling  through  a certain  quick 
instinct,  which  was  almost  a divination,  that  the 
secrets  of  art  are  best  learned  in  secret,  and 
that  Beauty,  like  Wisdom,  loves  the  lonely 
worshipper. 

Many  curious  stories  were  related  about  him 
at  this  period.  It  was  said  that  a stout  Burgo- 
master, who  had  come  to  deliver  a florid  ora- 
torical address  on  behalf  of  the  citizens  of  the 
town,  had  caught  sight  of  him  kneeling  in  real 
adoration  before  a great  picture  that  had  just 
been  brought  from  Venice,  and  that  seemed  to 
herald  the  worship  of  some  new  gods.  On 
another  occasion  he  had  been  missed  for  several 
hours,  and  after  a lengthened  search  had  been 
discovered  in  a little  chamber  in  one  of  the 
northern  turrets  of  the  palace  gazing,  as  one 
in  a trance,  at  a Greek  gem  carved  with  the 
figure  of  Adonis.  He  had  been  seen,  so  the 
tale  ran,  pressing  his  warm  lips  to  the  marble 


G 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


brow  of  an  antique  statue  that  had  been  dis- 
covered in  the  bed  oi  the  river  on  the  occasion 
oT  the  building  of  the  stone  bridge,  and  was 
inscribed  with  the  name  of  the  Bithynian  slave 
of  Hadrian.  He  had  passed  a whole  night  in 
noting  the  effect  of  the  moonlight  on  a silver 
image  of  Endvmion. 

All  rare  and  costly  materials  had  certainly  a 
great  fascination  for  him,  and  in  his  eagerness 
to  procure  them  he  had  sent  away  many 
merchants,  some  to  traffic  for  amber  with  the 
rough  lisher-folk  of  the  north  seas,  some  to 
Egypt  to  look  for  that  curious  green  turquoise 
which  is  found  only  in  the  tombs  of  kings,  and 
is  said  to  possess  magical  properties,  some  to 
Persia  for  silken  carpets  and  painted  pottery, 
and  others  to  India  to  buy  gauze  and  stained 
ivory,  moonstones  and  bracelets  of  jade,  sandal- 
wood and  blue  enamel  and  shawls  of  fine  wool. 

But  what  had  occupied  him  most  was  the 
robe  he  was  to  wear  at  his  coronation,  the  robe 
of  tissued  gold,  and  the  ruby-studded  crown, 
and  the  sceptre  with  its  rows  and  rings  of  pearls. 
Indeed,  it  was  of  this  that  he  was  thinking 


THE  YOUNG  KING 


7 


to-night,  as  he  lay  back  on  his  luxurious  couch, 
watching  the  great  pinewood  log  that  was  burn- 
ing itself  out  on  the  open  hearth.  The  designs, 
which  were  from  the  hands  of  the  most  famous 
artists  of  the  time,  had  been  submitted  to  him 
many  months  before,  and  he  had  given  orders 
that  the  artificers  were  to  toil  night  and  day  to 
carry  them  out,  and  that  the  whole  world  was 
to  be  searched  for  jewels  that  would  be  worthy 
of  their  work.  He  saw  himself  in  fancy  stand- 
ing at  the  high  altar  of  the  cathedral  in  the  fair 
raiment  of  a King,  and  a smile  played  and 
lingered  about  his  boyish  lips,  and  lit  up  with  a 
bright  lustre  his  dark  woodland  eyes. 

After  some  time  he  rose  from  his  seat,  and 
leaning  against  the  carved  penthouse  of  the 
chimney,  looked  round  at  the  dimly-lit  room. 
The  walls  were  hung  with  rich  tapestries  repre- 
senting the  Triumph  of  Beauty.  A large  press, 
inlaid  with  agate  and  lapis-lazuli,  filled  one 
corner,  and  facing  the  window  stood  a curiously 
wrought  cabinet  with  lacquer  panels  of  powdered 
and  mosaiced  gold,  on  which  were  placed  some 
delicate  goblets  of  Venetian  glass,  and  a cup 


8 


A HOUSE  OF*  POMEGRANATES 


of  dark -veined  onyx.  Pale  poppies  were 
broidered  on  the  silk  coverlet  of  the  bed,  as 
though  they  had  fallen  from  the  tired  hands  of 
sleep,  and  tall  reeds  of  fluted  ivory  bare  up  the 
velvet  canopy,  from  which  great  tufts  of  ostrich 
plumes  sprang,  like  white  foam,  to  the  pallid 
silver  of  the  fretted  ceiling.  A laughing  Nar- 
cissus in  green  bronze  held  a polished  mirror 
above  its  head.  On  the  table  stood  a flat  bowl 
of  amethyst. 

Outside  he  could  see  the  huge  dome  of  the 
cathedral,  looming  like  a bubble  over  the 
shadowy  houses,  and  the  weary  sentinels  pacing 
up  and  down  on  the  misty  terrace  by  the  river. 
Far  away,  in  an  orchard,  a nightingale  was 
singing,  A faint  perfume  of  jasmine  came 
through  the  open  window.  He  brushed  his 
brown  curls  back  from  his  forehead,  and  taking 
up  a lute,  let  his  fingers  stray  across  the  cords. 
His  heavy  eyelids  drooped,  and  a strange  languor 
came  over  him.  Never  before  had  he  felt  so 
keenly,  or  with  such  exquisite  joy,  the  magic 
and  the  mystery  of  beautiful  things. 

When  midnight  sounded  from  the  clock- 


THE  YOUNG  KING 


9 


tower  he  touched  a bell,  and  his  pages  entered 
and  disrobed  him  with  much  ceremony,  pouring 
rose-water  over  his  hands,  and  strewing  flowers 
on  his  pillow.  A few  moments  after  that  they 
had  left  the  room,  he  fell  asleep. 

And  as  he  slept  he  dreamed  a dream,  and  this 
was  his  dream. 

He  thought  that  he  was  standing  in  a long, 
low  attic,  amidst  the  whir  and  clatter  of  many 
looms.  The  meagre  daylight  peered  in  through 
the  grated  windows,  and  showed  him  the  gaunt 
figures  of  the  weavers  bending  over  their  cases. 
Pale,  sickly-looking  children  were  crouched  on 
the  huge  crossbeams.  As  the  shuttles  dashed 
through  the  warp  they  lifted  up  the  heavy 
battens,  and  when  the  shuttles  stopped  they  let 
the  battens  fall  and  pressed  the  threads  together. 
Their  faces  were  pinched  with  famine,  and  their 
thin  hands  shook  and  trembled;  Some  haggard 
women  were  seated  at  a table  sewing.  A 
horrible  odour  filled  the  place.  The  air  was  foul 
and  heavy,  and  the  walls  dripped  and  streamed 
with  damp. 


10 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


The  young  King  went  over  to  one  of  the 
weavers,  and  stood  by  him  and  watched  him. 

And  the  weaver  looked  at  him  angrily,  and 
said,  ‘ Why  art  thou  watching  me  ? Art  thou  a 
spy  set  on  us  by  our  master  ? * 

‘ Who  is  thy  master  ? ’ asked  the  young  King. 

‘Our  master!'  cried  the  weaver,  bitterly. 
‘ He  is  a man  like  myself.  Indeed,  there  is  but 
this  difference  between  us  — that  he  wears  fine 
clothes  while  I go  in  rags,  and  that  while  I am 
weak  from  hunger  he  suffers  not  a little  from 
overfeeding.' 

‘ The  land  is  free/  said  the  young  King,  ‘ and 
thou  art  no  man’s  slave.' 

‘In  war,’  answered  the  weaver,  ‘the  strong 
make  slaves  of  the  weak,  and  in  peace  the  rich 
make  slaves  of  the  poor.  We  must  work  to  live, 
and  they  give  us  such  mean  wages  that  we  die. 
We  toil  for  them  all  day  long,  and  they  heap  up 
gold  in  their  coffers,  and  our  children  fade  away 
before  their  time,  and  the  faces  of  those  we  love 
become  hard  and  evil.  We  tread  out  the  grapes, 
and  another  drinks  the  wine.  We  sow  the  corn, 
and  our  own  board  is  empty.  We  have  chains. 


THE  YOUNG  KING 


11 


though  no  eye  beholds  them ; and  are  slaves, 
though  men  call  us  free/ 

‘ Is  it  so  with  all  ? * he  asked. 
f It  is  so  with  all/  answered  the  weaver,  f with 
the  young  as  well  as  with  the  old,  with  the 
women  as  well  as  with  the  men,  with  the  little 
children  as  well  as  with  those  who  are  stricken 
in  years.  The  merchants  grind  us  down,  and 
we  must  needs  do  their  bidding.  The  priest 
rides  by  and  tells  his  beads,  and  no  man  has  care 
of  us.  Through  our  sunless  lanes  creeps  Poverty 
with  her  hungry  eyes,  and  Sin  with  his  sodden 
face  follows  close  behind  her.  Misery  wakes  us 
in  the  morning,  and  Shame  sits  with  us  at  night. 
But  what  are  these  things  to  thee  ? Thou  art 
not  one  of  us.  Thy  face  is  too  happy/  And 
he  turned  away  scowling,  and  threw  the  shuttle 
across  the  loom,  and  the  young  King  saw  that  it 
was  threaded  with  a thread  of  gold. 

And  a great  terror  seized  upon  him,  and  he 
said  to  the  weaver,  ‘ What  robe  is  this  that  thou 
art  weaving  ? ' 

‘ It  is  the  robe  for  the  coronation  of  the  young 
King/  he  answered  ; c what  is  that  to  thee  ? * 


12 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


And  the  young  King  gave  a loud  cry  and 
woke,  and  lo  ! he  was  in  his  own  chamber,  and 
through  the  window  he  saw  the  great  honey- 
coloured  moon  hanging  in  the  dusky  air. 

And  he  fell  asleep  again  and  dreamed,  and 
this  was  his  dream. 

He  thought  that  he  was  lying  on  the  deck  of 
a huge  galley  that  was  being  rowed  by  a hundred 
slaves.  On  a carpet  by  his  side  the  master  of 
the  galley  was  seated.  He  was  black  as  ebony, 
and  his  turban  was  of  crimson  silk.  Great  ear- 
rings of  silver  dragged  down  the  thick  lobes  of 
his  ears,  and  in  his  hands  he  had  a pair  of  ivory 
scales. 

The  slaves  were  naked,  but  for  a ragged  loin- 
cloth, and  each  man  was  chained  to  his  neighbour. 
The  hot  sun  beat  brightly  upon  them,  and  the 
negroes  ran  up  and  down  the  gangway  and 
lashed  them  with  whips  of  hide.  They  stretched 
out  their  lean  arms  and  pulled  the  heavy  oars 
through  the  water.  The  salt  spray  flew  from 
the  blades. 

At  last  they  reached  a little  bay,  and  began 


THE  YOUNG  KING 


13 


to  take  soundings.  A light  wind  blew  from  the 
shore,  and  covered  the  deck  and  the  great  lateen 
sail  with  a fine  red  dust.  Three  Arabs  mounted 
on  wild  asses  rode  out  and  threw  spears  at  them. 
The  master  of  the  galley  took  a painted  bow  in 
his  hand  and  shot  one  of  them  in  the  throat. 
He  fell  heavily  into  the  surf,  and  his  companions 
galloped  away.  A woman  wrapped  in  a yellow 
veil  followed  slowly  on  a camel,  looking  back 
now  and  then  at  the  dead  body. 

As  soon  as  they  had  cast  anchor  and  hauled 
down  the  sail,  the  negroes  went  into  the  hold 
and  brought  up  a long  rope-ladder,  heavily 
weighted  with  lead.  The  master  of  the  galley 
threw  it  over  the  side,  making  the  ends  fast  to 
two  iron  stanchions.  Then  the  negroes  seized 
the  youngest  of  the  slaves  and  knocked  his  gyves 
off,  and  filled  his  nostrils  and  his  ears  with  wax, 
and  tied  a big  stone  round  his  waist.  He  crept 
wearily  down  the  ladder,  and  disappeared  into 
the  sea.  A few  bubbles  rose  where  he  sank. 
Some  of  the  other  slaves  peered  curiously  over 
the  side.  At  the  prow  of  the  galley  sat  a shark- 
charmer,  beating  monotonously  upon  a drum. 


14 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


After  some  time  the  diver  rose  up  out  of  the 
water,  and  clung  panting  to  the  ladder  with  a 
pearl  in  his  right  hand.  The  negroes  seized  it 
from  him,  and  thrust  him  back.  The  slaves  fell 
asleep  over  their  oars. 

Again  and  again  he  came  up,  and  each  time 
that  he  did  so  he  brought  with  him  a beautiful 
pearl.  The  master  of  the  galley  weighed  them, 
and  put  them  into  a little  bag  of  green  leather. 

The  young  King  tried  to  speak,  but  his  tongue 
seemed  to  cleave  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth,  and 
his  lips  refused  to  move.  The  negroes  chattered 
to  each  other,  and  began  to  quarrel  over  a string 
of  bright  beads.  Two  cranes  flew  round  and 
round  the  vessel. 

Then  the  diver  came  up  for  the  last  time,  and 
the  pearl  that  he  brought  with  him  was  fairer 
than  all  the  pearls  of  Ormuz,  for  it  was  shaped 
like  the  full  moon,  and  whiter  than  the  morning 
star.  But  his  face  was  strangely  pale,  and  as 
he  fell  upon  the  deck  the  blood  gushed  from  his 
ears  and  nostrils.  He  quivered  for  a little,  and 
then  he  was  still.  The  negroes  shrugged  their 
shoulders,  and  threw  the  body  overboard. 


THE  YOUNG  KING 


U 


And  the  master  of  the  galley  laughed,  and, 
reaching  out,  he  took  the  pearl,  and  when  he 
saw  it  he  pressed  it  to  his  forehead  and  bowed. 
fIt  shall  be/  he  said,  ‘for  the  sceptre  of  the 
young  King/  and  he  made  a sign  to  the  negroes 
to  draw  up  the  anchor. 

And  when  the  young  King  heard  this  he  gave 
a great  cry,  and  woke,  and  through  the  window 
he  saw  the  long  grey  fingers  of  the  dawn  clutch- 
ing at  the  fading  stars. 

And  he  fell  asleep  again,  and  dreamed,  and 
this  was  his  dream. 

He  thought  that  he  was  wandering  through 
a dim  wood,  hung  with  strange  fruits  and  with 
beautiful  poisonous  flowers.  The  adders  hissed 
at  him  as  he  wTent  by,  and  the  bright  parrots 
flew  screaming  from  branch  to  branch.  Huge 
tortoises  lay  asleep  upon  the  hot  mud.  The 
trees  were  full  of  apes  and  peacocks. 

On  and  on  he  went,  till  he  reached  the  out- 
skirts of  the  wood,  and  there  he  saw  an  immense 
multitude  of  men  toiling  in  the  bed  of  a dried-up 
river.  They  swarmed  up  the  crag  like  ants. 


16 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


They  dug  deep  pits  in  the  ground  and  went 
down  into  them.  Some  of  them  cleft  the  rocks 
with  great  axes ; others  grabbled  in  the  sand. 
They  tore  up  the  cactus  by  its  roots,  and  trampled 
on  the  scarlet  blossoms.  They  hurried  about, 
calling  to  each  other,  and  no  man  was  idle. 

From  the  darkness  of  a cavern  Death  and 
Avarice  watched  them,  and  Death  said,  ‘ I am 
weary ; give  me  a third  of  them  and  let  me  go/ 

But  Avarice  shook  her  head.  ‘ They  are  my 
servants/  she  answered. 

And  Death  said  to  her,  ‘ What  hast  thou  in 
thy  hand  ? ’ 

‘ I have  three  grains  of  corn/  she  answered ; 
* what  is  that  to  thee  ? ’ 

* Give  me  one  of  them/  cried  Death,  6 to  plant 
in  my  garden ; only  one  of  them,  and  I will  go 
away/ 

c I will  not  give  thee  anything/  said  Avarice, 
and  she  hid  her  hand  in  the  fold  of  her  raiment. 

And  Death  laughed,  and  took  a cup,  and 
dipped  it  into  a pool  of  water,  and  out  of  the 
cup  rose  Ague.  She  passed  through  the  great 
multitude,  and  a third  of  them  lay  dead.  A cold 


THE  YOUNG  KING 


IV 


mist  fallowed  her,  and  the  water-snakes  ran  by 
her  side. 

And  wh^n  Avarice  saw  that  a third  of  the 
multitude  was  dead  she  beat  her  breast  and 
wept.  She  beat  her  barren  bosom,  and  cried 
aloud.  ‘ Thou  hast  slain  a third  of  my  servants/ 
jhe  cried,  ‘ get  thee  gone.  There  is  war  in  the 
mountains  of  Tartary,  and  the  kings  of  each  side 
are  calling  to  thee.  The  Afghans  have  slain 
the  black  ox,  and  are  marching  to  battle.  They 
have  beaten  upon  their  shields  with  their  spears, 
and  have  put  on  their  helmets  of  iron.  What 
is  my  valley  to  thee,  that  thou  shouldst  tarry 
in  it  ? Get  thee  gone,  and  come  here  no 
more/ 

‘Nay/  answered  Death,  ‘but  till  thou  hast 
given  me  a grain  of  corn  I will  not  go/ 

But  Avarice  shut  her  hand,  and  clenched  her 
teeth.  4 I will  not  give  thee  anything/  she 
muttered. 

And  Death  laughed,  and  took  up  a black 
stone,  and  threw  it  into  the  forest,  and  out  of  a 
thicket  of  wild  hemlock  came  Fever  in  a robe 
of  flame.  She  passed  through  the  multitude, 

B 


18 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


and  touched  them,  and  each  man  that  she 
touched  died.  The  grass  withered  beneath  her 
feet  as  she  walked. 

And  Avarice  shuddered,  and  put  ashes  on 
her  head.  ‘Thou  art  cruel/  she  cried;  ‘thou 
art  cruel.  There  is  famine  in  the  walled  cities 
of  India,  and  the  cisterns  of  Samarcand  have  run 
dry.  There  is  famine  in  the  walled  cities  of 
Egypt,  and  the  locusts  have  come  up  from  the 
desert.  The  Nile  has  not  overflowed  its  banks, 
and  the  priests  have  cursed  Isis  and  Osiris.  Get 
thee  gone  to  those  who  need  thee,  and  leave  me 
my  servants/ 

‘Nay/  answered  Death,  ‘but  till  thou  hast 
given  me  a grain  of  corn  I will  not  go.' 

‘ I will  not  give  thee  anything/  said  Avarice. 

And  Death  laughed  again,  and  he  whistled 
through  his  fingers,  and  a woman  came  flying 
through  the  air.  Plague  was  written  upon  her 
forehead,  and  a crowd  of  lean  vultures  wheeled 
round  her.  She  covered  the  valley  with  her 
wings,  and  no  man  was  left  alive. 

And  Avarice  fled  shrieking  through  the  forest, 
and  Death  leaped  upon  his  red  horse  and 


THE  YOUNG  KING 


19 


galloped  away,  and  his  galloping  was  faster 
than  the  wind. 

And  out  of  the  slime  at  the  bottom  of  the 
valley  crept  dragons  and  horrible  things  with 
scales,  and  the  jackals  came  trotting  along  the 
sand,  sniffing  up  the  air  with  their  nostrils. 

And  the  young  King  wept,  and  said  : c Who 
were  these  men,  and  for  what  were  they  seeking?’ 
f For  rubies  for  a king’s  crown/  answered  one 
who  stood  behind  him. 

And  the  young  King  started,  and,  turning 
round,  he  saw  a man  habited  as  a pilgrim  and 
holding  in  his  hand  a mirror  of  silver. 

And  he  grew  pale,  and  said  : * For  what  king  ? ’ 
And  the  pilgrim  answered : * Look  in  this 
mirror,  and  thou  shalt  see  him/ 

And  he  looked  in  the  mirror,  and,  seeing  his 
own  face,  he  gave  a great  cry  and  woke,  and  the 
bright  sunlight  was  streaming  into  the  room, 
and  from  the  trees  of  the  garden  and  pleasaunce 
the  birds  were  singing. 

And  the  Chamberlain  and  the  high  officers 
of  State  came  in  and  made  obeisance  to  him, 


20 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


and  the  pages  brought  him  the  robe  of  tissued 
gold,  and  set  the  crown  and  the  sceptre  before 
him. 

And  the  young  King  looked  at  them,  and 
they  were  beautiful.  More  beautiful  were  they 
than  aught  that  he  had  ever  seen.  But  he 
remembered  his  dreams,  and  he  said  to  his 
lords : 4 Take  these  things  away,  for  I will  not 
wear  them/ 

And  the  courtiers  were  amazed,  and  some  of 
them  laughed,  for  they  thought  that  he  was 
jesting. 

But  he  spake  sternly  to  them  again,  and  said  : 
4 Take  these  things  away,  and  hide  them  from 
me.  Though  it  be  the  day  of  my  coronation,  I 
will  not  wear  them.  For  on  the  loom  of  Sorrow, 
and  by  the  white  hands  of  Pain,  has  this  my 
robe  been  woven.  There  is  Blood  in  the  heart 
of  the  ruby,  and  Death  in  the  heart  of  the  pearl/ 
And  he  told  them  his  three  dreams. 

And  when  the  courtiers  heard  them  they 
looked  at  each  other  and  whispered,  saying  : 
‘ Surely  he  is  mad ; for  what  is  a dream  but 
a dream,  and  a vision  but  a vision  ? They  are 


THE  YOUNG  KING 


21 


not  real  things  that  one  should  heed  them. 
And  what  have  we  to  do  with  the  lives  of  those 
who  toil  for  us  ? Shall  a man  not  eat  bread  till 
he  has  seen  the  sower,  nor  drink  wine  till  he  has 
talked  with  the  vinedresser?’ 

And  the  Chamberlain  spake  to  the  young 
King,  and  said,  e My  lord,  I pray  thee  set  aside 
these  black  thoughts  of  thine,  and  put  on  this 
fair  robe,  and  set  this  crown  upon  thy  head. 
For  how  shall  the  people  know  that  thou  art  a 
king,  if  thou  hast  not  a king’s  raiment?' 

And  the  young  King  looked  at  him.  ‘ Is 
it  so,  indeed?’  he  questioned.  ‘Will  they  not 
know  me  for  a king  if  I have  not  a king’s 
raiment  ? ’ 

c They  will  not  know  thee,  my  lord,'  cried  the 
Chamberlain. 

e I had  thought  that  there  had  been  men  who 
were  kinglike,’  he  answered,  ‘ but  it  may  be  as 
thou  sayest.  And  yet  I will  not  wear  this  robe, 
nor  will  I be  crowned  with  this  crown,  but  even 
as  I came  to  the  palace  so  will  I go  forth 
from  it.’ 

And  he  bade  them  all  leave  him,  save  one 


22 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


page  whom  he  kept  as  his  companion,  a lad  a 
year  younger  than  himself.  Him  he  kept  for 
his  service,  and  when  he  had  bathed  himself  in 
clear  water,  he  opened  a great  painted  chest, 
and  from  it  he  took  the  leathern  tunic  and  rough 
sheepskin  cloak  that  he  had  worn  when  he  had 
watched  on  the  hillside  the  shaggy  goats  of  the 
goatherd.  These  he  put  on,  and  in  his  hand  he 
took  his  rude  shepherd’s  staff. 

And  the  little  page  opened  his  big  blue  eyes 
in  wonder,  and  said  smiling  to  him,  f My  lord, 
I see  thy  robe  and  thy  sceptre,  but  where  is  thy 
crown  ? * 

And  the  young  King  plucked  a spray  of  wild 
briar  that  was  climbing  over  the  balcony,  and 
bent  it,  and  made  a circlet  of  it,  and  set  it  on 
his  own  head. 

‘ This  shall  be  my  crown/  he  answered. 

And  thus  attired  he  passed  out  of  his  chamber 
into  the  Great  Hall,  where  the  nobles  were 
waiting  for  him. 

And  the  nobles  made  merry,  and  some  of 
them  cried  out  to  him,  f My  lord,  the  people 
wait  for  their  king,  and  thou  showest  them  a 


THE  YOUNG  KING 


23 


beggar/  and  others  were  wroth  and  said,  ‘ He 
brings  shame  upon  our  state,  and  is  unworthy 
to  be  our  master/  But  he  answered  them  not 
a v/ord,  but  passed  on,  and  went  down  the 
bright  porphyry  staircase,  and  out  through  the 
gates  of  bronze,  and  mounted  upon  his  horse, 
and  rode  towards  the  cathedral,  the  little  page 
running  beside  him. 

And  the  people  laughed  and  said,  ‘ It  is  the 
King’s  fool  who  is  riding  by/  and  they  mocked 
him. 

And  he  drew  rein  and  said,  ‘Nay,  but  I 
am  the  King/  And  he  told  them  his  three 
dreams. 

And  a man  came  out  of  the  crowd  and  spake 
bitterly  to  him,  and  said,  4 Sir,  knowest  thou 
not  that  out  of  the  luxury  of  the  rich  cometh 
the  life  of  the  poor?  By  your  pomp  we  are 
nurtured,  and  your  vices  give  us  bread.  To  toil 
for  a hard  master  is  bitter,  but  to  have  no  master 
to  toil  for  is  more  bitter  still.  Thinkest  thou 
that  the  ravens  will  feed  us  ? And  what  cure 
hast  thou  for  these  things?  Wilt  thou  say  to 
the  buyer,  “ Thou  shalt  buy  for  so  much,”  and 


24  . A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


to  the  seller,  “Thou  shalt  sell  at  this  price " ? I 
trow  not.  Therefore  go  back  to  thy  Palace  and 
put  on  thy  purple  and  fine  linen.  What  hast 
thou  to  do  with  us,  and  what  we  suffer  ? ' 

‘ Are  not  the  rich  and  the  poor  brothers?' 
asked  the  young  King. 

fAy,'  answered  the  man,  fand  the  name  of 
the  rich  brother  is  Cain.' 

And  the  young  King's  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
and  he  rode  on  through  the  murmurs  of  the 
people,  and  the  little  page  grew  afraid  and  left 
him. 

And  when  he  reached  the  great  portal  of  the 
cathedral,  the  soldiers  thrust  their  halberts  out 
and  said,  c What  dost  thou  seek  here  ? None 
enters  by  this  door  but  the  King.' 

And  his  face  flushed  with  anger,  and  he  said 
to  them,  ‘1  am  the  King,'  and  waved  their 
halberts  aside  and  passed  in. 

And  when  the  old  Bishop  saw  him  coming  in 
his  goatherd's  dress,  he  rose  up  in  wonder  from 
his  throne,  and  went  to  meet  him,  and  said  to 
him,  1 My  son,  is  this  a king's  apparel  ? And 
with  what  crown  shall  I crown  thee,  and  what 


THE  YOUNG  KING 


26 


sceptre  shall  I place  in  thy  hand  ? Surely  this 
should  be  to  thee  a day  of  joy,  and  not  a day 
of  abasement/ 

‘ Shall  Joy  wear  what  Grief  has  fashioned?* 
said  the  young  King.  And  he  told  him  his 
three  dreams. 

And  when  the  Bishop  had  heard  them  he  knit 
his  brows,  and  said,  f My  son,  I am  an  old  man, 
and  in  the  winter  of  my  days,  and  I know  that 
many  evil  things  are  done  in  the  wide  world. 
The  fierce  robbers  come  down  from  the  moun- 
tains, and  carry  off  the  little  children,  and  sell 
them  to  the  Moors.  The  lions  lie  in  wait  for 
the  caravans,  and  leap  upon  the  camels.  The 
wild  boar  roots  up  the  corn  in  the  valley,  and 
the  foxes  gnaw  the  vines  upon  the  hill.  The 
pirates  lay  waste  the  sea-coast  and  burn  the 
ships  of  the  fishermen,  and  take  their  nets  from 
them.  In  the  salt-marshes  live  the  lepers;  they 
have  houses  of  wattled  reeds,  and  none  may 
come  nigh  them.  The  beggars  wander  through 
the  cities,  and  eat  their  food  with  the  dogs. 
Canst  thou  make  these  things  not  to  be  ? Wilt 
thou  take  the  leper  for  thy  bedfellow,  and  set 


26 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


the  beggar  at  thy  board  ? Shall  the  lion  do  thy 
bidding,  and  the  wild  boar  obey  thee  ? Is  not 
He  who  made  misery  wiser  than  thou  art  ? 
Wherefore  I praise  thee  not  for  this  that  thou 
hast  done,  but  I bid  thee  ride  back  to  the 
Palace  and  make  thy  face  glad,  and  put  on  the 
raiment  that  beseemeth  a king,  and  with  the 
crown  of  gold  I will  crown  thee,  and  the  sceptre 
of  pearl  will  I place  in  thy  hand.  And  as  for 
thy  dreams,  think  no  more  of  them.  The  burden 
of  this  world  is  too  great  for  one  man  to  bear, 
and  the  world’s  sorrow  too  heavy  for  one  heart 
to  suffer/ 

c Sayest  thou  that  in  this  house  ? * said  the 
young  King,  and  he  strode  past  the  Bishop,  and 
climbed  up  the  steps  of  the  altar,  and  stood 
before  the  image  of  Christ. 

He  stood  before  the  image  of  Christ,  and  on 
his  right  hand  and  on  his  left  were  the  marvel- 
lous vessels  of  gold,  the  chalice  with  the  yellow 
wine,  and  the  vial  with  the  holy  oil.  He  knelt 
before  the  image  of  Christ,  and  the  great  candles 
burned  brightly  by  the  jewelled  shrine,  and  the 
smoke  of  the  incense  curled  in  thin  blue  wreaths 


eoeTew  (mums  lmbra^  : 

CHESTNUT  «fU,  MASS* 

THE  YOUNG  KING  27 

through  the  dome.  He  bowed  his  head  in 
prayer,  and  the  priests  in  their  stiff  copes  crept 
away  from  the  altar. 

And  suddenly  a wild  tumult  came  from  the 
street  outside,  and  in  entered  the  nobles  with 
drawn  swords  and  nodding  plumes,  and  shields 
of  polished  steel.  c Where  is  this  dreamer  of 
dreams  ? ' they  cried.  f Where  is  this  King,  who 
is  apparelled  like  a beggar — this  boy  who  brings 
shame  upon  our  state  ? Surely  we  will  slay  him, 
for  he  is  unworthy  to  rule  over  us/ 

And  the  young  King  bowed  his  head  again, 
and  prayed,  and  when  lie  had  finished  his  prayer 
he  rose  up,  and  turning  round  he  looked  at 
them  sadly. 

And  lo ! through  the  painted  windows  came 
the  sunlight  streaming  upon  him,  and  the  sun- 
beams wove  round  him  a tissued  robe  that  was 
fairer  than  the  robe  that  had  been  fashioned  for 
his  pleasure.  The  dead  staff  blossomed,  and 
bare  lilies  that  were  whiter  than  pearls.  The 
dry  thorn  blossomed,  and  bare  roses  that  were 
redder  than  rubies.  Whiter  than  fine  pearls 
were  the  lilies,  and  their  stems  were  of  bright 


28 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


silver.  Redder  than  male  rubies  were  the  roses, 
and  their  leaves  were  of  beaten  gold. 

He  stood  there  in  the  raiment  of  a king,  and 
the  gates  of  the  jewelled  shrine  flew  open,  and 
from  the  crystal  of  the  many-rayed  monstrance 
shone  a marvellous  and  mystical  light.  He 
stood  there  in  a king’s  raiment,  and  the  Glory 
of  God  filled  the  place,  and  the  saints  in  their 
carven  niches  seemed  to  move.  In  the  fair 
raiment  of  a king  he  stood  before  them,  and  the 
organ  pealed  out  its  music,  and  the  trumpeters 
blew  upon  their  trumpets,  and  the  singing  boys 
sang. 

And  the  people  fell  upon  their  knees  in  awe, 
and  the  nobles  sheathed  their  swords  and  did 
homage,  and  the  Bishop’s  face  grew  pale,  and 
his  hands  trembled.  ‘ A greater  than  I hath 
crowned  thee/  he  cried,  and  he  knelt  before  him. 

And  the  young  King  came  down  from  the 
high  altar,  and  passed  home  through  the  midst 
of  the  people.  But  no  man  dared  look  upon  his 
face,  for  it  was  like  the  face  of  an  angel. 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA 


TO 

MRS.  WILLIAM  H.  GRENFELL 
OF  TAPLOW  COURT 

[ULDY  UKSBGKOUGH] 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA 


IT  was  the  birthday  of  the  Infanta.  She  was 
just  twelve  years  of  age,  and  the  sun  was 
shining  brightly  in  the  gardens  of  the  palace. 

Although  she  was  a real  Princess  and  the 
Infanta  of  Spain,  she  had  only  one  birthday 
every  year,  just  like  the  children  of  quite  poor 
people,  so  it  was  naturally  a matter  of  great 
importance  to  the  whole  country  that  she  should 
have  a really  fine  day  for  the  occasion.  And  a 
really  fine  day  it  certainly  was.  The  tall  striped 
tulips  stood  straight  up  upon  their  stalks,  like 
long  rows  of  soldiers,  and  looked  defiantly  across 
the  grass  at  the  roses,  and  said:  ‘We  are  quite 
as  splendid  as  you  are  now/  The  purple  butter- 
flies fluttered  about  with  gold  dust  on  their 
wings,  visiting  each  flower  in  turn;  the  little 
lizards  crept  out  of  the  crevices  of  the  wall,  and 
lay  basking  in  the  white  glare ; and  the  pome- 
granates split  and  cracked  with  the  heat,  and 


31 


32 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


showed  their  bleeding  red  hearts.  Even  the 
pale  yellow  lemons,  that  hung  in  such  profusion 
from  the  mouldering  trellis  and  along  the  dim 
arcades,  seemed  to  have  caught  a richer  colour 
from  the  wonderful  sunlight,  and  the  magnolia 
trees  opened  their  great  globe-like  blossoms  of 
folded  ivory,  and  filled  the  air  with  a sweet 
heavy  perfume. 

The  little  Princess  herself  walked  up  and 
down  the  terrace  with  her  companions,  and 
played  at  hide  and  seek  round  the  stone  vases 
and  the  old  moss-grown  statues.  On  ordinary 
days  she  was  only  allowed  to  play  with  children 
of  her  own  rank,  so  she  had  always  to  play 
alone,  but  her  birthday  was  an  exception,  and 
the  King  had  given  orders  that  she  was  to  invite 
any  of  her  young  friends  whom  she  liked  to 
come  and  amuse  themselves  with  her.  There 
was  a stately  grace  about  these  slim  Spanish 
children  as  they  glided  about,  the  boys  with 
their  large-plumed  hats  and  short  fluttering 
cloaks,  the  girls  holding  up  the  trains  of  their 
long  brocaded  gowns,  and  shielding  the  sun  from 
their  eyes  with  huge  fans  of  black  and  silver. 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  33 


But  the  Infanta  was  the  most  graceful  of  all, 
and  the  most  tastefully  attired,  after  the  some- 
what cumbrous  fashion  of  the  day.  Her  robe 
was  of  grey  satin,  the  skirt  and  the  wide  puffed 
sleeves  heavily  embroidered  with  silver,  and  the 
stiff  corset  studded  with  rows  of  fine  pearls. 
Two  tiny  slippers  with  big  pink  rosettes  peeped 
out  beneath  her  dress  as  she  walked.  Pink  and 
pearl  was  her  great  gauze  fan,  and  in  her  hair, 
which  like  an  aureole  of  faded  gold  stood  out 
stiffly  round  her  pale  little  face,  she  had  a 
beautiful  white  rose. 

From  a window  in  the  palace  the  sad  melan- 
choly King  watched  them.  Behind  him  stood 
his  brother,  Don  Pedro  of  Aragon,  whom  he 
hated,  and  his  confessor,  the  Grand  Inquisitor 
of  Granada,  sat  by  his  side.  Sadder  even  than 
usual  was  the  King,  for  as  he  looked  at  the 
Infanta  bowing  with  childish  gravity  to  the 
assembling  courtiers,  or  laughing  behind  her  fan 
at  the  grim  Duchess  of  Albuquerque  who  always 
accompanied  her,  he  thought  of  the  young 
Queen,  her  mother,  who  but  a short  time  before 
— so  it  seemed  to  him — had  come  from  the  gay 

c 


34 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


country  of  France,  and  had  withered  away  in 
the  sombre  splendour  of  the  Spanish  court,  dying 
just  six  months  after  the  birth  of  her  child,  and 
before  she  had  seen  the  almonds  blossom  twice 
in  the  orchard,  or  plucked  the  second  year’s 
fruit  from  the  old  gnarled  fig-tree  that  stood  in 
the  centre  of  the  now  grass-grown  courtyard. 
So  great  had  been  his  love  for  her  that  he  had 
not  suffered  even  the  grave  to  hide  her  from 
him.  She  had  been  embalmed  by  a Moorish 
physician,  who  in  return  for  this  service  had 
been  granted  his  life,  which  for  heresy  and 
suspicion  of  magical  practices  had  been  already 
forfeited,  men  said,  to  the  Holy  Office,  and  her 
body  was  still  lying  on  its  tapestried  bier  in  the 
black  marble  chapel  of  the  Palace,  just  as  the 
monks  had  borne  her  in  on  that  windy  March 
day  nearly  twelve  years  before.  Once  every 
month  the  King,  wrapped  in  a dark  cloak  and 
with  a muffled  lantern  in  his  hand,  went  in  and 
knelt  by  her  side  calling  out,  ‘ Mi  rein  a ! Mi 
rcina!’  and  sometimes  breaking  through  the 
formal  etiquette  that  in  Spain  governs  every 
separate  action  of  life,  and  sets  limits  even  to 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  35 


the  sorrow  of  a King,  he  would  clutch  at  the 
pale  jewelled  hands  in  a wild  agony  of  grief,  and 
try  to  wake  by  his  mad  kisses  the  cold  painted 
face. 

To-day  he  seemed  to  see  her  again,  as  he  had 
seen  her  first  at  the  Castle  of  Fontainebleau, 
when  he  was  but  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  she 
still  younger.  They  had  been  formally  betrothed 
on  that  occasion  by  the  Papal  Nuncio  in  the 
presence  of  the  French  King  and  all  the  Court, 
and  he  had  returned  to  the  Escurial  bearing 
with  him  a little  ringlet  of  yellow  hair,  and  the 
memory  of  two  childish  lips  bending  down  to 
kiss  his  hand  as  he  stepped  into  his  carriage. 
Later  on  had  followed  the  marriage,  hastily 
performed  at  Burgos,  a small  town  on  the  frontier 
between  the  two  countries,  and  the  grand  public 
entry  into  Madrid  with  the  customary  celebration 
of  high  mass  at  the  Church  of  La  Atocha,  and  a 
more  than  usually  solemn  auto-da-fe , in  which 
nearly  three  hundred  heretics,  amongst  whom 
were  many  Englishmen,  had  been  delivered  over 
to  the  secular  arm  to  be  burned. 

Certainly  he  had  loved  her  madly,  and  to  the 


36 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


ruin,  many  thought,  of  his  country,  then  at  war 
with  England  for  the  possession  of  the  empire  of 
the  New  World.  He  had  hardly  ever  permitted 
her  to  be  out  of  his  sight ; for  her,  he  had 
forgotten,  or  seemed  to  have  forgotten,  all  grave 
affairs  of  State  ; and,  with  that  terrible  blindness 
that  passion  brings  upon  its  servants,  he  had 
failed  to  notice  that  the  elaborate  ceremonies  by 
which  he  sought  to  please  her  did  but  aggravate 
the  strange  malady  from  which  she  suffered. 
When  she  died  he  was,  for  a time,  like  one  bereft 
of  reason.  Indeed,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that 
he  would  have  formally  abdicated  and  retired  to 
the  great  Trappist  monastery  at  Granada,  of 
which  he  was  already  titular  Prior,  had  he  not 
been  afraid  to  leave  the  little  Infanta  at  the 
mercy  of  his  brother,  whose  cruelty,  even  in 
Spain,  was  notorious,  and  who  was  suspected  by 
many  of  having  caused  the  Queen's  death  by 
means  of  a pair  of  poisoned  gloves  that  he  had 
presented  to  her  on  the  occasion  of  her  visiting 
his  castle  in  Aragon.  Even  after  the  expiration 
of  the  three  years  of  public  mourning  that  he 
had  ordained  throughout  his  whole  dominions  by 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  37 


royal  edict,  he  would  never  suffer  his  ministers 
to  speak  about  any  new  alliance,  and  when  the 
Emperor  himself  sent  to  him,  and  offered  him 
the  hand  of  the  lovely  Archduchess  of  Bohemia, 
his  niece,  in  marriage,  he  bade  the  ambassadors 
tell  their  master  that  the  King  of  Spain  was 
already  wedded  to  Sorrow,  and  that  though  she 
was  but  a barren  bride  he  loved  her  better  than 
Beauty ; an  answer  that  cost  his  crown  the  rich 
provinces  of  the  Netherlands,  which  soon  after, 
at  the  Emperor’s  instigation,  revolted  against 
him  under  the  leadership  of  some  fanatics  of  the 
Reformed  Church. 

His  whole  married  life,  with  its  fierce,  fiery- 
coloured  joys  and  the  terrible  agony  of  its  sudden 
ending,  seemed  to  come  back  to  him  to-day  as 
he  watched  the  Infanta  playing  on  the  terrace. 
She  had  all  the  Queen’s  pretty  )etulance  of 
manner,  the  same  wilful  way  of  tossing  her  head, 
the  same  proud  curved  beautiful  mouth,  the 
same  wonderful  smile — vrai  sourire  de  France 
indeed — as  she  glanced  up  now  and  then  at  the 
window,  or  stretched  out  her  little  hand  for  the 
stately  Spanish  gentlemen  to  kiss.  But  the 


38 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


shrill  laughter  of  the  children  grated  on  his 
ears,  and  the  bright  pitiless  sunlight  mocked  his 
sorrow,  and  a dull  odour  of  strange  spices, 
spices  such  as  embalmers  use,  seemed  to  taint 
— or  was  it  fancy  ? — the  clear  morning  air.  He 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  when  the 
Infanta  looked  up  again  the  curtains  had  been 
drawn,  and  the  King  had  retired. 

She  made  a little  moae  of  disappointment,  and 
shrugged  her  shoulders.  Surely  he  might  have 
stayed  with  her  on  her  birthday.  What  did  the 
stupid  State-affairs  matter  ? Or  had  he  gone  to 
that  gloomy  chapel,  where  the  candles  were 
always  burning,  and  where  she  was  never 
allowed  to  enter  ? How  silly  of  him,  when  the 
sun  was  shining  so  brightly,  and  everybody  was 
so  happy ! Besides,  he  would  miss  the  sham 
bull-fight  for  which  the  trumpet  was  already 
sounding,  to  say  nothing  of  the  puppet-show 
and  the  other  wonderful  things.  Her  uncle  and 
the  Grand  Inquisitor  were  much  more  sensible. 
They  had  come  out  on  the  terrace,  and  paid  her 
nice  compliments.  So  she  tossed  her  pretty 
head,  and  taking  Don  Pedro  by  the  hand,  she 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  39 


walked  slowly  down  the  steps  towards  a long 
pavilion  of  purple  silk  that  had  been  erected  at 
the  end  of  the  garden,  the  other  children  follow- 
ing in  strict  order  of  precedence,  those  who  had 
the  longest  names  going  first. 

A procession  of  noble  boys,  fantastically 
dressed  as  toreadors,  came  out  to  meet  her,  and 
the  young  Count  of  Tierra-Nueva,  a wonderfully 
handsome  lad  of  about  fourteen  years  of  age, 
uncovering  his  head  with  all  the  grace  of  a born 
hidalgo  and  grandee  of  Spain,  led  her  solemnly 
in  to  a little  gilt  and  ivory  chair  that  was  placed 
on  a raised  dais  above  the  arena.  The  children 
grouped  themselves  all  round,  fluttering  their 
big  fans  and  whispering  to  each  other,  and  Don 
Pedro  and  the  Grand  Inquisitor  stood  laugh- 
ing at  the  entrance.  Even  the  Duchess — the 
Camerera-Mayor  as  she  was  called — a thin,  hard- 
featured  woman  with  a yellow  ruff,  did  not  look 
quite  so  bad-tempered  as  usual,  and  something 
like  a chill  smile  flitted  across  her  wrinkled  face 
and  twitched  her  thin  bloodless  lips. 

It  certainly  was  a marvellous  bull-fight,  and 


40 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


much  nicer,  the  Infanta  thought,  than  the  real 
bull-fight  that  she  had  been  brought  to  see  at 
Seville,  on  the  occasion  of  the  visit  of  the  Duke 
of  Parma  to  her  father.  Some  of  the  boys 
pranced  about  on  richly-caparisoned  hobby-horses 
brandishing  long  javelins  with  gay  streamers  of 
bright  ribands  attached  to  them ; others  went 
on  foot  waving  their  scarlet  cloaks  before  the 
bull,  and  vaulting  lightly  over  the  barrier  when 
he  charged  them ; and  as  for  the  bull  himself, 
he  was  just  like  a live  bull,  though  he  was  only 
made  of  wicker-work  and  stretched  hide,  and 
sometimes  insisted  on  running  round  the  arena 
on  his  hind  legs,  which  no  live  bull  ever  dreams 
of  doing.  He  made  a splendid  fight  of  it  too, 
and  the  children  got  so  excited  that  they  stood 
up  upon  the  benches,  and  waved  their  lace 
handkerchiefs  and  cried  out : Bravo  taro  ! Bravo 
toro  ! just  as  sensibly  as  if  they  had  been  grown- 
up people.  At  last,  however,  after  a prolonged 
combat,  during  which  several  of  the  hobby- 
horses were  gored  through  and  through,  and 
their  riders  dismounted,  the  young  Count  of 
Tierra-Nueva  brought  the  bull  to  his  knees,  and 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  41 


having  obtained  permission  from  the  Infanta  to 
give  the  coup  de  grace , he  plunged  his  wooden 
sword  into  the  neck  of  the  animal  with  such 
violence  that  the  head  came  right  off,  and  dis- 
closed the  laughing  face  of  little  Monsieur  de 
Lorraine,  the  son  of  the  French  Ambassador  at 
Madrid. 

The  arena  was  then  cleared  amidst  much 
applause,  and  the  dead  hobby-horses  dragged 
solemnly  away  by  two  Moorish  pages  in  yellow 
and  black  liveries,  and  after  a short  interlude, 
during  which  a French  posture-master  performed 
upon  the  tight-rope,  some  Italian  puppets  ap- 
peared in  the  semi-classical  tragedy  of  Sophonisba 
on  the  stage  of  a small  theatre  that  had  been 
built  up  for  the  purpose.  They  acted  so  well, 
and  their  gestures  were  so  extremely  natural, 
that  at  the  close  of  the  play  the  eyes  of  the 
Infanta  were  quite  dim  with  tears.  Indeed 
some  of  the  children  really  cried,  and  had  to 
be  comforted  with  sweetmeats,  and  the  Grand 
Inquisitor  himself  was  so  affected  that  he  could 
not  help  saying  to  Don  Pedro  that  it  seemed 
to  him  intolerable  that  things  made  simply  out 


42 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


of  wood  and  coloured  wax,  and  worked  mechani- 
cally by  wires,  should  be  so  unhappy  and  meet 
with  such  terrible  misfortunes. 

An  African  juggler  followed,  who  brought  in 
a large  flat  basket  covered  with  a red  cloth,  and 
having  placed  it  in  the  centre  of  the  arena,  he 
took  from  his  turban  a curious  reed  pipe,  and 
blew  through  it.  In  a few  moments  the  cloth 
began  to  move,  and  as  the  pipe  grew  shriller 
and  shriller  two  green  and  gold  snakes  put  out 
their  strange  wedge-shaped  heads  and  rose  slowly 
up,  swaying  to  and  fro  with  the  music  as  a 
plant  sways  in  the  water.  The  children,  how- 
ever, were  rather  frightened  at  their  spotted 
hoods  and  quick  darting  tongues,  and  were  much 
more  pleased  when  the  juggler  made  a tiny 
orange-tree  grow  out  of  the  sand  and  bear  pretty 
white  blossoms  and  clusters  of  real  fruit ; and 
when  he  took  the  fan  of  the  little  daughter  of 
the  Marquess  de  Las-Torres,  and  changed  it  into 
a blue  bird  that  flew  all  round  the  pavilion  and 
sang,  their  delight  and  amazement  knew  no 
bounds.  The  solemn  minuet,  too,  performed  by 
the  dancing  boys  from  the  church  of  Nuestra 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  43 


Senora  Del  Pilar,,  was  charming.  The  Infanta 
had  never  before  seen  this  wonderful  ceremony 
which  takes  place  every  year  at  Maytime  in 
front  of  the  high  altar  of  the  Virgin,  and  in  her 
honour ; and  indeed  none  of  the  royal  family  of 
Spain  had  entered  the  great  cathedral  of  Sara- 
gossa since  a mad  priest,  supposed  by  many  to 
have  been  in  the  pay  of  Elizabeth  of  England, 
had  tried  to  administer  a poisoned  wafer  to  the 
Prince  of  the  Asturias.  So  she  had  known  only 
by  hearsay  of  ‘Our  Lady’s  Dance/  as  it  was 
called,  and  it  certainly  was  a beautiful  sight. 
The  boys  wore  old-fashioned  court  dresses  of 
white  velvet,  and  their  curious  three-cornered 
hats  were  fringed  with  silver  and  surmounted 
with  huge  plumes  of  ostrich  feathers,  the  dazzling 
whiteness  of  their  costumes,  as  they  moved  about 
in  the  sunlight,  being  still  more  accentuated  by 
their  swarthy  faces  and  long  black  hair.  Every- 
body was  fascinated  by  the  grave  dignity  with 
which  they  moved  through  the  intricate  figures 
of  the  dance,  and  by  the  elaborate  grace  of  their 
slow  gestures,  and  stately  bow’s,  and  when  they 
had  finished  their  performance  and  doffed  their 


44 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


great  plumed  hats  to  the  Infanta,  she  acknow- 
ledged their  reverence  with  much  courtesy,  and 
made  a vow  that  she  would  send  a large  wax 
candle  to  the  shrine  of  Our  Lady  of  Pilar  in 
return  for  the  pleasure  that  she  had  given  her. 

A troop  of  handsome  Egyptians — as  the  gipsies 
were  termed  in  those  days — then  advanced  into 
the  arena,  and  sitting  down  cross-legs,  in  a circle, 
began  to  play  softly  upon  their  zithers,  moving 
their  bodies  to  the  tune,  and  humming,  almost 
below  their  breath,  a low  dreamy  air.  When 
they  caught  sight  of  Don  Pedro  they  scowled  at 
him,  and  some  of  them  looked  terrified,  for  only 
a few  weeks  before  he  had  had  two  of  their  tribe 
hanged  for  sorcery  in  the  market-place  at  Seville, 
but  the  pretty  Infanta  charmed  them  as  she 
leaned  back  peeping  over  her  fan  with  her  great 
blue  eyes,  and  they  felt  sure  that  one  so  lovely 
as  she  was  could  never  be  cruel  to  anybody.  So 
they  played  on  very  gently  and  just  touching 
the  cords  of  the  zithers  with  their  long  pointed 
nails,  and  their  heads  began  to  nod  as  though 
they  were  falling  asleep.  Suddenly,  with  a cry 
so  shrill  that  all  the  children  were  startled  and 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  45 


Don  Pedro's  hand  clutched  at  the  agate  pommel 
of  his  dagger,  they  leapt  to  their  feet  and 
whirled  madly  round  the  enclosure  beating  their 
tambourines,  and  chaunting  some  wild  love-song 
in  their  strange  guttural  language.  Then  at 
another  signal  they  all  flung  themselves  again 
to  the  ground  and  lay  there  quite  still,  the  dull 
strumming  of  the  zithers  being  the  only  sound 
that  broke  the  silence.  After  that  they  had 
done  this  several  times,  they  disappeared  for  a 
moment  and  came  back  leading  a brown  shaggy 
bear  by  a chain,  and  carrying  on  their  shoulders 
some  little  Barbary  apes.  The  bear  stood  upon 
his  head  with  the  utmost  gravity,  and  the  wizened 
apes  played  all  kinds  of  amusing  tricks  with  two 
gipsy  boys  who  seemed  to  be  their  masters,  and 
fought  with  tiny  swords,  and  fired  off  guns,  and 
went  through  a regular  soldier's  drill  just  like 
the  King’s  own  bodyguard.  In  fact  the  gipsies 
were  a great  success. 

But  the  funniest  part  of  the  whole  morning’s 
entertainment,  was  undoubtedly  the  dancing  ot 
the  little  Dwarf.  When  he  stumbled  into  the 
arena,  waddling  on  his  crooked  legs  and  wagging 


46 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


his  huge  misshapen  head  from  side  to  side,  the 
children  went  off  into  a loud  shout  of  delight, 
and  the  Infanta  herself  laughed  so  much  that 
the  Camerera  was  obliged  to  remind  her  that 
although  there  were  many  precedents  in  Spain 
for  a King's  daughter  weeping  before  her  equals, 
there  were  none  for  a Princess  of  the  blood  royal 
making  so  merry  before  those  who  were  her 
inferiors  in  birth.  The  Dwarf,  however,  was 
really  quite  irresistible,  and  even  at  the  Spanish 
Court,  always  noted  for  its  cultivated  passion 
for  the  horrible,  so  fantastic  a little  monster  had 
never  been  seen.  It  was  his  first  appearance, 
too.  He  had  been  discovered  only  the  day 
before,  running  wild  through  the  forest,  by  two 
of  the  nobles  who  happened  to  have  been  hunt- 
ing in  a remote  part  of  the  great  cork-wood  that 
surrounded  the  town,  and  had  been  carried  off 
by  them  to  the  Palace  as  a surprise  for  the 
Infanta ; his  father,  who  was  a poor  charcoal- 
burner,  being  but  too  well  pleased  to  get  rid  of 
so  ugly  and  useless  a child.  Perhaps  the  most 
amusing  thing  about  him  was  his  complete  un- 
consciousness of  his  own  grotesque  appearance. 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  47 


Indeed  he  seemed  quite  happy  and  full  of  the 
highest  spirits.  When  the  children  laughed,  he 
laughed  as  freely  and  as  joyously  as  any  of  them, 
and  at  the  close  of  each  dance  he  made  them 
each  the  funniest  of  bows,  smiling  and  nodding 
at  them  just  as  if  he  was  really  one  of  them- 
selves, and  not  a little  misshapen  thing  that 
Nature,  in  some  humourous  mood,  had  fashioned 
for  others  to  mock  at.  As  for  the  Infanta,  she 
absolutely  fascinated  him.  He  could  not  keep 
his  eyes  off  her,  and  seemed  to  dance  for  her 
alone,  and  when  at  the  close  of  the  performance, 
remembering  how  she  had  seen  the  great  ladies 
of  the  Court  throw  bouquets  to  Caffarelli,  the 
famous  Italian  treble,  whom  the  Pope  had  sent 
from  his  own  chapel  to  Madrid  that  he  might 
cure  the  King’s  melancholy  by  the  sweetness  of 
his  voice,  she  took  out  of  her  hair  the  beautiful 
white  rose,  and  partly  for  a jest  and  partly  to 
tease  the  Camerera,  threw  it  to  him  across  the 
arena  with  her  sweetest  smile,  he  took  the  whole 
matter  quite  seriously,  and  pressing  the  flower 
to  his  rough  coarse  lips  he  put  his  hand  upon  his 
heart,  and  sank  on  one  knee  before  her,  grinning 


48 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


from  ear  to  ear,  and  with  his  little  bright  eyes 
sparkling  with  pleasure. 

This  so  upset  the  gravity  of  the  Infanta  that 
she  kept  on  laughing  long  after  the  little  Dwarf 
had  run  out  of  the  arena,  and  expressed  a desire 
to  her  uncle  that  the  dance  should  be  immedi- 
ately repeated.  The  Camerera,  however,  on  the 
plea  that  the  sun  was  too  hot,  decided  that  it 
would  be  better  that  her  Highness  should  return 
without  delay  to  the  Palace,  where  a wonderful 
feast  had  been  already  prepared  for  her,  includ- 
ing a real  birthday  cake  with  her  own  initials 
worked  all  over  it  in  painted  sugar  and  a lovely 
silver  flag  waving  from  the  top.  The  Infanta 
accordingly  rose  up  with  much  dignity,  and 
having  given  orders  that  the  little  dwarf  was  to 
dance  again  for  her  after  the  hour  of  siesta,  and 
conveyed  her  thanks  to  the  young  Count  of 
Tierra-Nueva  for  his  charming  reception,  she 
went  back  to  her  apartments,  the  children 
following  in  the  same  order  in  which  they  had 
entered. 


Now  when  the  little  Dwarf  heard  that  he  was 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  49 


to  dance  a second  time  before  the  Infanta,  and 
by  her  own  express  command,  he  was  so  proud 
that  he  ran  out  into  the  garden,  kissing  the 
white  rose  in  an  absurd  ecstasy  of  pleasure,  and 
making  the  most  uncouth  and  clumsy  gestures 
of  delight. 

The  Flowers  were  quite  indignant  at  his  daring 
to  intrude  into  their  beautiful  home,  and  when 
they  saw  him  capering  up  and  down  the  walks, 
and  waving  his  arms  above  his  head  in  such  a 
ridiculous  manner,  they  could  not  restrain  their 
feelings  any  longer. 

f He  is  really  far  too  ugly  to  be  allowed  to  play 
in  any  place  where  we  are/  cried  the  Tulips. 

f He  should  drink  poppy-juice,  and  go  to  sleep 
for  a thousand  years/  said  the  great  scarlet  Lilies, 
and  they  grew  quite  hot  and  angry. 

f He  is  a perfect  horror  ! ' screamed  the  Cactus. 
f Why,  he  is  twisted  and  stumpy,  and  his  head 
is  completely  out  of  proportion  with  his  legs. 
Really  he  makes  me  feel  prickly  all  over,  and  if 
he  comes  near  me  I will  sting  him  with  my 
thorns/ 

‘And  he  has  actually  got  one  of  my  best 

D 


50 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


blooms/  exclaimed  the  White  Rose-Tree.  ‘ I 
gave  it  to  the  Infanta  this  morning  myself,  as 
a birthday  present,  and  he  has  stolen  it  from 
her/  And  she  called  out:  * Thief,  thief,  thief!’ 
at  the  top  of  her  voice. 

Even  the  red  Geraniums,  who  did  not  usually 
give  themselves  airs,  and  were  known  to  have 
a great  many  poor  relations  themselves,  curled 
up  in  disgust  when  they  saw  him,  and  when  the 
Violets  meekly  remarked  that  though  he  was 
certainly  extremely  plain,  still  he  could  not  help 
it,  they  retorted  with  a good  deal  of  justice  that 
that  was  his  chief  defect,  and  that  there  was  no 
reason  why  one  should  admire  a person  because 
he  was  incurable ; and,  indeed,  some  of  the 
Violets  themselves  felt  that  the  ugliness  of  the 
little  Dwarf  was  almost  ostentatious,  and  that 
he  would  have  shown  much  better  taste  if  he 
had  looked  sad,  or  at  least  pensive,  instead  of 
jumping  about  merrily,  and  throwing  himself 
into  such  grotesque  and  silly  attitudes. 

As  for  the  old  Sundial,  who  was  an  extremely 
remarkable  individual,  and  had  once  told  the 
time  of  day  to  no  less  a person  than  the  Emperor 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  51 


Charles  v.  himself,  he  was  so  taken  aback  by 
the  little  Dwarfs  appearance,  that  he  almost 
forgot  to  mark  two  whole  minutes  with  his  long 
shadowy  finger,  and  could  not  help  saying  to 
the  great  milk-white  Peacock,  who  was  sunning 
herself  on  the  balustrade,  that  every  one  knew 
that  the  children  of  Kings  were  Kings,  and  that 
the  children  of  charcoal-burners  were  charcoal- 
burners,  and  that  it  was  absurd  to  pretend  that 
it  wasn’t  so ; a statement  with  which  the  Pea- 
cock entirely  agreed,  and  indeed  screamed  out, 
‘ Certainly,  certainly/  in  such  a loud,  harsh 
voice,  that  the  gold-fish  who  lived  in  the  basin 
of  the  cool  splashing  fountain  put  their  heads 
out  of  the  water,  and  asked  the  huge  stone 
Tritons  what  on  earth  was  the  matter. 

But  somehow  the  Birds  liked  him.  They  had 
seen  him  often  in  the  forest,  dancing  about  like 
an  elf  after  the  eddying  leaves,  or  crouched  up 
in  the  hollow  of  some  old  oak-tree,  sharing  his 
nuts  with  the  squirrels.  They  did  not  mind  his 
being  ugly,  a bit.  Why,  even  the  nightingale 
herself,  who  sang  so  swreetly  in  the  orange  groves 
at  night  that  sometimes  the  Moon  leaned  down 


52 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


to  listen,  was  not  much  to  look  at  after  all ; 
and,  besides,  he  had  been  kind  to  them,  and 
during  that  terribly  bitter  winter,  when  there 
were  no  berries  on  the  trees,  and  the  ground 
was  as  hard  as  iron,  and  the  wolves  had  come 
down  to  the  very  gates  of  the  city  to  look  for 
food,  he  had  never  once  forgotten  them,  but 
had  always  given  them  crumbs  out  of  his  little 
hunch  of  black  bread,  and  divided  with  them 
whatever  poor  breakfast  he  had. 

So  they  flew  round  and  round  him,  just 
touching  his  cheek  with  their  wings  as  they 
passed,  and  chattered  to  each  other,  and  the 
little  Dwarf  was  so  pleased  that  he  could  not 
help  showing  them  the  beautiful  white  rose,  and 
telling  them  that  the  Infanta  herself  had  given 
it  to  him  because  she  loved  him. 

They  did  not  understand  a single  word  of 
what  he  was  saying,  but  that  made  no  matter, 
for  they  put  their  heads  on  one  side,  and  looked 
wise,  which  is  quite  as  good  as  understanding 
a thing,  and  very  much  easier. 

The  Lizards  also  took  an  immense  fancy  to 
him,  and  when  he  grew  tired  of  running  about 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  58 


and  flung  himself  down  on  the  grass  to  rest, 
they  played  and  romped  all  over  him,  and  tried 
to  amuse  him  in  the  best  way  they  could. 
‘ Every  one  cannot  be  as  beautiful  as  a lizard/ 
they  cried  ; f that  would  be  too  much  to  expect. 
And,  though  it  rounds  absurd  to  say  so,  he  is 
really  not  so  ugly  after  all,  provided,  of  course, 
that  one  shuts  one’s  eyes,  and  does  not  look  at 
him/  The  Lizards  were  extremely  philosophical 
by  nature,  and  often  sat  thinking  for  hours  and 
hours  together,  when  there  was  nothing  else  to 
do,  or  when  the  weather  was  too  rainy  for  them 
to  go  out. 

The  Flowers,  however,  were  excessively  an- 
noyed at  their  behaviour,  and  at  the  behaviour 
of  the  birds.  fIt  only  shows/  they  said,  cwhat 
a vulgarising  effect  this  incessant  rushing  and 
flying  about  has.  Well-bred  people  always  stay 
exactly  in  the  same  place,  as  we  do.  No  one 
ever  saw  us  hopping  up  and  down  the  walks, 
or  galloping  madly  through  the  grass  after 
dragon-flies.  When  we  do  want  change  of  air, 
we  send  for  the  gardener,  and  he  carries  us 
to  another  bed.  This  is  dignified,  and  as  it 


54 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


should  be.  But  birds  and  lizards  have  no  sense 
of  repose,  and  indeed  birds  have  not  even  a 
permanent  address.  They  are  mere  vagrants 
like  the  gipsies,  and  should  be  treated  in  exactly 
the  same  manner/  So  they  put  their  noses  in 
the  air,  and  looked  very  haughty,  and  were 
quite  delighted  when  after  some  time  they  saw 
the  little  Dwarf  scramble  up  from  the  grass, 
and  make  his  way  across  the  terrace  to  the 
palace. 

‘ He  should  certainly  be  kept  indoors  for  the 
rest  of  his  natural  life/  they  said.  e Look  at  his 
hunched  back,  and  his  crooked  legs/  and  they 
began  to  titter. 

But  the  little  Dwarf  knew  nothing  of  all  this. 
He  liked  the  birds  and  the  lizards  immensely, 
and  thought  that  the  flowers  were  the  most 
marvellous  things  in  the  whole  world,  except  of 
course  the  Infanta,  but  then  she  had  given  him 
the  beautiful  white  rose,  and  she  loved  him,  and 
that  made  a great  difference.  How  he  wished 
that  he  had  gone  back  with  her ! She  would 
have  put  him  on  her  right  hand,  and  smiled  at 
him,  and  he  would  have  never  left  her  side. 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  55 


but  would  have  made  her  his  playmate,  and 
taught  her  all  kinds  of  delightful  tricks.  For 
though  he  had  never  been  in  a palace  before, 
he  knew  a great  many  wonderful  things.  He 
could  make  little  cages  out  of  rushes  for  the 
grasshoppers  to  sing  in,  and  fashion  the  long- 
jointed  bamboo  into  the  pipe  that  Pan  loves  to 
hear.  He  knew  the  cry  of  every  bird,  and 
could  call  tire  starlings  from  the  tree-top,  or 
the  heron  from  the  mere.  He  knew  the  trail 
of  every  animal,  and  could  track  the  hare  by 
its  delicate  footprints,  and  the  boar  by  the 
trampled  leaves.  All  the  wild-dances  he  knew, 
the  mad  dance  in  red  raiment  with  the  autumn, 
the  light  dance  in  blue  sandals  over  the  corn, 
the  dance  with  white  snow-wreaths  in  winter, 
and  the  blossom-dance  through  the  orchards  in 
spring.  He  knew  where  the  wood-pigeons  built 
their  nests,  and  once  when  a fowler  had  snared 
the  parent  birds,  he  had  brought  up  the  young 
ones  himself,  and  had  built  a little  dovecot 
for  them  in  the  cleft  of  a pollard  elm.  They 
were  quite  tame,  and  used  to  feed  out  of  his 
hands  every  morning.  She  would  like  them, 


50 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


and  the  rabbits  that  scurried  about  in  the  Ion" 
fern,  and  the  jays  with  their  steely  feathers 
and  black  bills,  and  the  hedgehogs  that  could 
curl  themselves  up  into  prickly  balls,  and  the 
great  wise  tortoises  that  crawled  slowly  about, 
shaking  their  heads  and  nibbling  at  the  young 
leaves.  Yes,  she  must  certainly  come  to  the 
forest  and  play  with  him.  He  would  give  her 
his  own  little  bed,  and  would  watch  outside  the 
window  till  dawn,  to  see  that  the  wild  horned 
cattle  did  not  harm  her,  nor  the  gaunt  wolves 
creep  too  near  the  hut.  And  at  dawn  he  would 
tap  at  the  shutters  and  wake  her,  and  they 
would  go  out  and  dance  together  all  the  day 
long.  It  was  really  not  a bit  lonely  in  the 
forest.  Sometimes  a Bishop  rode  through  on 
his  white  mule,  reading  out  of  a painted  book. 
Sometimes  in  their  green  velvet  caps,  and  their 
jerkins  of  tanned  deerskin,  the  falconers  passed 
by,  with  hooded  hawks  on  their  wrists.  At 
vintage -time  came  the  grape-treaders,  with 
purple  hands  and  feet,  wreathed  with  glossy  ivy 
and  carrying  dripping  skins  of  wine ; and  the 
charcoal-burners  sat  round  their  huge  braziers 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  57 


at  night,  watching  the  dry  logs  charring  slowly 
in  the  fire,  and  roasting  chestnuts  in  the  ashes, 
and  the  robbers  came  out  of  their  caves  and 
made  merry  with  them.  Once,  too,  he  had  seen 
a beautiful  procession  winding  up  the  long  dusty 
road  to  Toledo.  The  monks  went  in  front  sing- 
ing sweetly,  and  carrying  bright  banners  and 
crosses  of  gold,  and  then,  in  silver  armour,  with 
matchlocks  and  pikes,  came  the  soldiers,  and  in 
their  midst  walked  three  barefooted  men,  in 
strange  yellow  dresses  painted  all  over  with 
wonderful  figures,  and  carrying  lighted  candles 
in  their  hands.  Certainly  there  was  a great  deal 
to  look  at  in  the  forest,  and  when  she  was  tired 
he  would  find  a soft  bank  of  moss  for  her,  or 
carry  her  in  his  arms,  for  he  was  very  strong, 
though  he  knew  that  he  was  not  tall.  He  would 
make  her  a necklace  of  red  bryony  berries,  that 
would  be  quite  as  pretty  as  the  white  berries 
that  she  wore  on  her  dress,  and  when  she  was 
tired  of  them,  she  could  throw  them  away,  and 
he  would  find  her  others.  He  would  bring  her 
acorn-cups  and  dew-drenched  anemones,  and  tiny 
glow-worms  to  be  stars  in  the  pale  gold  of  her  hair. 


58 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


But  where  was  she  ? He  asked  the  white 
rose,  and  it  made  him  no  answer.  The  whole 
palace  seemed  asleep,  and  even  where  the 
shutters  had  not  been  closed,  heavy  curtains 
had  been  drawn  across  the  windows  to  keep  out 
the  glare.  He  wandered  all  round  looking  for 
some  place  through  which  he  might  gain  an 
entrance,  and  at  last  he  caught  sight  of  a little 
private  door  that  was  lying  open.  He  slipped 
through,  and  found  himself  in  a splendid  hall, 
far  more  splendid,  he  feared,  than  the  forest, 
there  was  so  much  more  gilding  everywhere, 
and  even  the  floor  was  made  of  great  coloured 
stones,  fitted  together  into  a sort  of  geometrical 
pattern.  But  the  little  Infanta  was  not  there, 
only  some  wonderful  white  statues  that  looked 
down  on  him  from  their  jasper  pedestals,  with 
sad  blank  eyes  and  strangely  smiling  lips. 

At  the  end  of  the  hall  hung  a richly  em- 
broidered curtain  of  black  velvet,  powdered  with 
suns  and  stars,  the  King’s  favourite  devices,  and 
broidered  on  the  colour  he  loved  best.  Perhaps 
she  was  hiding  behind  that?  He  would  try  at 
any  rate* 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  69 


So  he  stole  quietly  across,  and  drew  it  aside. 
No;  there  was  only  another  room,  though  a 
prettier  room,  he  thought,  than  the  one  he  had 
just  left.  The  walls  were  hung  with  a many- 
figured  green  arras  of  needle-wrought  tapestry 
representing  a hunt,  the  work  of  some  Flemish 
artists  who  had  spent  more  than  seven  years  in 
its  composition.  It  had  once  been  the  chamber 
of  Jean  le  Foil,  as  he  was  called,  that  mad  King 
who  was  so  enamoured  of  the  chase,  that  he 
had  often  tried  in  his  delirium  to  mount  the 
huge  rearing  horses,  and  to  drag  down  the  stag 
on  which  the  great  hounds  were  leaping,  sound- 
ing his  hunting  horn,  and  stabbing  with  his 
dagger  at  the  pale  flying  deer.  It  was  now 
used  as  the  council-room,  and  on  the  centre 
table  were  lying  the  red  portfolios  of  the 
ministers,  stamped  with  the  gold  tulips  of 
Spain,  and  with  the  arms  and  emblems  of  the 
house  of  Hapsburg. 

The  little  Dwarf  looked  in  wonder  all  round 
him,  and  was  half-afraid  to  go  on.  The  strange 
silent  horsemen  that  galloped  so  swiftly  through 
the  long  glades  without  making  any  noise. 


60 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


seemed  to  him  like  those  terrible  phantoms  of 
whom  he  had  heard  the  charcoal-burners  speak- 
ing— the  Comprachos,  who  hunt  only  at  night, 
and  if  they  meet  a man,  turn  him  into  a hind, 
and  chase  him.  But  he  thought  of  the  pretty 
Infanta,  and  took  courage.  He  wanted  to  find 
her  alone,  and  to  tell  her  that  he  too  loved  her. 
Perhaps  she  was  in  the  room  beyond. 

He  ran  across  the  soft  Moorish  carpets,  and 
opened  the  door.  No  ! She  was  not  here  either. 
The  room  was  quite  empty. 

It  was  a throne-room,  used  for  the  reception 
of  foreign  ambassadors,  when  the  King,  which 
of  late  had  not  been  often,  consented  to  give 
them  a personal  audience ; the  same  room  in 
which,  many  years  before,  envoys  had  appeared 
from  England  to  make  arrangements  for  the  mar- 
riage of  their  Queen,  then  one  of  the  Catholic 
sovereigns  of  Europe,  with  the  Emperor’s  eldest 
son.  The  hangings  were  of  gilt  Cordovan 
leather,  and  a heavy  gilt  chandelier  with 
branches  for  three  hundred  wax  lights  hung 
down  from  the  black  and  white  ceiling.  Under- 
neath a great  canopy  of  gold  cloth,  on  which 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  61 


the  lions  and  towers  of  Castile  were  broidered 
in  seed  pearls,  stood  the  throne  itself,  covered 
with  a rich  pall  of  black  velvet  studded  with 
silver  tulips  and  elaborately  fringed  with  silver 
and  pearls.  On  the  second  step  of  the  throne 
was  placed  the  kneeling-stool  of  the  Infanta, 
with  its  cushion  of  cloth  of  silver  tissue,  and 
below  that  again,  and  beyond  the  limit  of  the 
canopy,  stood  the  chair  for  the  Papal  Nuncio, 
who  alone  had  the  right  to  be  seated  in  the 
King's  presence  on  the  occasion  of  any  public 
ceremonial,  and  whose  cardinal’s  hat,  with  its 
tangled  scarlet  tassels,  lay  on  a purple  tabouret 
in  front.  On  the  wall,  facing  the  throne,  hung 
a life-sized  portrait  of  Charles  v.  in  hunting 
dress,  with  a great  mastiff  by  his  side,  and  a 
picture  of  Philip  n.  receiving  the  homage  of  the 
Netherlands  occupied  the  centre  of  the  other 
wall.  Between  the  windows  stood  a black  ebony 
cabinet,  inlaid  with  plates  of  ivory,  on  which 
the  figures  from  Holbein’s  Dance  of  Death  had 
been  graved — by  the  hand,  some  said,  of  that 
famous  master  himself. 

But  the  little  Dwarf  cared  nothing  for  all 


62 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


this  magnificence.  He  would  not  have  given 
his  rose  for  all  the  pearls  on  the  canopy,  nor 
one  white  petal  of  his  rose  for  the  throne  itself. 
What  he  wanted  was  to  see  the  Infanta  before 
she  went  down  to  the  pavilion,  and  to  ask  her 
to  come  away  with  him  when  he  had  finished 
his  dance.  Here,  in  the  Palace,  the  air  was 
close  and  heavy,  but  in  the  forest  the  wind  blew 
free,  and  the  sunlight  with  wandering  hands  of 
gold  moved  the  tremulous  leaves  aside.  There 
were  flowers,  too,  in  the  forest,  not  so  splendid, 
perhaps,  as  the  flowers  in  the  garden,  but  more 
sweetly  scented  for  all  that ; hyacinths  in  early 
spring  that  flooded  with  waving  purple  the  cool 
glens,  and  grassy  knolls ; yellow  primroses  that 
nestled  in  little  clumps  round  the  gnarled  roots 
of  the  oak-trees;  bright  celandine,  and  blue 
speedwell,  and  irises  lilac  and  gold.  There  were 
grey  catkins  on  the  hazels,  and  the  foxgloves 
drooped  with  the  weight  of  their  dappled  bee- 
haunted  cells.  The  chestnut  had  its  spires  of 
white  stars,  and  the  hawthorn  its  pallid  moons 
of  beauty.  Yes:  surely  she  would  come  if  he 
could  only  find  her ! She  would  come  with  him 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  <53 


to  the  fair  forest,  and  all  day  long  he  would 
dance  for  her  delight.  A smile  lit  up  his  eyes 
at  the  thought,  and  he  passed  into  the  next 
room. 

Of  all  the  rooms  this  was  the  brightest  and 
the  most  beautiful.  The  walls  were  covered 
with  a pink-flowered  Lucca  damask,  patterned 
with  birds  and  dotted  with  dainty  blossoms  of 
silver ; the  furniture  was  of  massive  silver, 
festooned  with  florid  wreaths,  and  swinging 
Cupids;  in  front  of  the  two  large  fire-places 
stood  great  screens  broidered  with  parrots  and 
peacocks,  and  the  floor,  which  was  of  sea-green 
onyx,  seemed  to  stretch  far  away  into  the  dis- 
tance. Nor  was  he  alone.  Standing  under  the 
shadow  of  the  doorway,  at  the  extreme  end  of 
the  room,  he  saw  a little  figure  watching  him. 
His  heart  trembled,  a cry  of  joy  broke  from  his 
lips,  and  he  moved  out  into  the  sunlight.  As 
he  did  so,  the  figure  moved  out  also,  and  he  saw 
it  plainly. 

The  Infanta!  It  was  a monster,  the  most 
grotesque  monster  he  had  ever  beheld.  Not 
properly  shaped,  as  all  other  people  were,  but 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


(>4 

hunchbacked,  and  crooked-limbed,  with  huge 
lolling  head  and  mane  of  black  hair.  The  little 
Dwarf  frowned,  and  the  monster  frowned  also. 
He  laughed,  and  it  laughed  with  him,  and  held 
its  hands  to  its  sides,  just  as  he  himself  was 
doing.  He  made  it  a mocking  bow,  and  it 
returned  him  a low  reverence.  He  went  towards 
it,  and  it  came  to  meet  him,  copying  each  step 
that  he  made,  and  stopping  when  he  stopped 
himself.  He  shouted  with  amusement,  and  ran 
forward,  and  reached  out  his  hand,  and  the 
hand  of  the  monster  touched  his,  and  it  was  as 
cold  as  ice.  He  grew  afraid,  and  moved  his 
hand  across,  and  the  monster's  hand  followed  it 
quickly.  He  tried  to  press  on,  but  something 
smooth  and  hard  stopped  him.  The  face  of  the 
monster  was  now  close  to  his  own,  and  seemed 
full  of  terror  He  brushed  his  hair  off  his  eyes. 
It  imitated  him.  He  struck  at  it,  and  it  re- 
turned blow  for  blow.  He  loathed  it,  and  it 
made  hideous  faces  at  him.  He  drew  back,  and 
it  retreated. 

What  is  it  ? He  thought  for  a moment,  and 
looked  round  at  the  rest  of  the  room.  It  was 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  65 


strange,  but  everything  seemed  to  have  its 
double  in  this  invisible  wall  of  clearwater.  Yes, 
picture  for  picture  was  repeated,  and  couch  for 
couch.  The  sleeping  Faun  that  lay  in  the  alcove 
by  the  doorway  had  its  twin  brother  that  slum- 
bered, and  the  silver  Venus  that  stood  in  the 
sunlight  held  out  her  arms  to  a Venus  as  lovely 
as  herself. 

Was  it  Echo  ? He  had  called  to  her  once  in 
the  valley,  and  she  had  answered  him  word  for 
word.  Could  she  mock  the  eye,  as  she  mocked 
the  voice?  Could  she  make  a mimic  world  just 
like  the  real  world  ? Could  the  shadow's  of 
things  have  colour  and  life  and  movement  ? 
Could  it  be  that ? 

He  started,  and  taking  from  his  breast  the 
beautiful  white  rose,  he  turned  round,  and 
kissed  it.  The  monster  had  a rose  of  its  own, 
petal  for  petal  the  same  ! It  kissed  it  with  like 
kisses,  and  pressed  it  to  its  heart  with  horrible 
gestures. 

When  the  truth  dawned  upon  him,  he  gave 
a wild  cry  of  despair,  and  fell  sobbing  to  the 
ground.  So  it  was  he  who  was  misshapen  and 


66 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


hunchbacked,  foul  to  look  at  and  grotesque. 
He  himself  was  the  monster,  and  it  was  at  him 
that  all  the  children  had  been  laughing,  and 
the  little  Princess  who  he  had  thought  loved 
him — she  too  had  been  merely  mocking  at  his 
ugliness,  and  making  merry  over  his  twisted 
limbs.  Why  had  they  not  left  him  in  the  forest, 
where  there  was  no  mirror  to  tell  him  how 
loathsome  he  was  ? Why  had  his  father  not 
killed  him,  rather  than  sell  him  to  his  shame  ? 
The  hot  tears  poured  down  his  cheeks,  and  he 
tore  the  white  rose  to  pieces.  The  sprawling 
monster  did  the  same,  and  scattered  the  faint 
petals  in  the  air.  It  grovelled  on  the  ground, 
and,  when  he  looked  at  it,  it  watched  him  with 
a face  drawn  with  pain.  He  crept  away,  lest 
he  should  see  it,  and  covered  his  eyes  with  his 
hands.  He  crawled,  like  some  wounded  thing, 
into  the  shadow,  and  lay  there  moaning. 

And  at  that  moment  the  Infanta  herself 
came  in  with  her  companions  through  the  open 
window,  and  when  they  saw  the  ugly  little 
dwarf  lying  on  the  ground  and  beating  the  floor 
with  his  clenched  hands,  in  the  most  fantastic 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  67 


and  exaggerated  manner,  they  went  off  into 
shouts  of  happy  laughter,  and  stood  all  round 
him  and  watched  him. 

‘ His  dancing  was  funny/  said  the  Infanta ; 
‘but  his  acting  is  funnier  still.  Indeed  he  is 
almost  as  good  as  the  puppets,  only  of  course 
not  quite  so  natural/  And  she  fluttered  her 
big  fan,  and  applauded. 

But  the  little  Dwarf  never  looked  up,  and  his 
sobs  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  suddenly  he 
gave  a curious  gasp,  and  clutched  his  side.  And 
then  he  fell  back  again,  and  lay  quite  still. 

‘That  is  capital/  said  the  Infanta,  after  a 
pause  ; ‘ but  now  you  must  dance  for  me/ 

‘Yes/  cried  all  the  children,  ‘you  must  get 
up  and  dance,  for  you  are  as  clever  as  the 
Barbary  apes,  and  much  more  ridiculous/ 

But  the  little  Dwarf  made  no  answer. 

And  the  Infanta  stamped  her  foot,  and  called 
out  to  her  uncle,  who  was  walking  on  the  terrace 
with  the  Chamberlain,  reading  some  despatches 
that  had  just  arrived  from  Mexico,  where  the 
Holy  Office  had  recently  been  established.  ‘ My 
funny  little  dwarf  is  sulking/  she  cried,  ‘you 


(38 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


must  wake  him  up,  and  tell  him  to  dance  for 
me/ 

They  smiled  at  each  other,  and  sauntered  in, 
and  Don  Pedro  stooped  down,  and  slapped  the 
Dwarf  on  the  cheek  with  his  embroidered  glove. 
‘You  must  dance/  he  said,  ‘petit  munstre.  You 
must  dance.  The  Infanta  of  Spain  and  the 
Indies  wishes  to  be  amused/ 

But  the  little  Dwarf  never  moved. 

‘ A whipping  master  should  be  sent  for/  said 
Don  Pedro  wearily,  and  he  went  back  to  the 
terrace.  But  the  Chamberlain  looked  grave, 
and  he  knelt  beside  the  little  dwarf,  and  put  his 
hand  upon  his  heart.  And  after  a few  moments 
he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  rose  up,  and 
having  made  a low  bow  to  the  Infanta,  he  said — 

‘ Mi  bella  Princesciy  your  funny  little  dwarf 
will  never  dance  again.  It  is  a pity,  for  he  is 
so  ugly  that  he  might  have  made  the  King 
smile/ 

‘ But  why  will  he  not  dance  again  ? ' asked 
the  Infanta,  laughing. 

‘ Because  his  heart  is  broken/  answered  the 
Chamberlain. 


THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  INFANTA  69 


And  the  Infanta  frowned,  and  her  dainty 
rose-leaf  lips  curled  in  pretty  disdain.  ‘ For  the 
future  let  those  who  come  to  play  with  me  have 
no  hearts/  she  cried,  and  she  ran  out  into  the 
garden. 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL 


TO  H.S.H. 
ALICE,  PRINCESS 
OF  MONACO 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL 


VERY  evening  the  young  Fisherman  went 


out  upon  the  sea,  and  threw  his  nets  into 
the  water. 

When  the  wind  blew  from  the  land  hr  caught 
nothing,  or  but  little  at  best,  for  it  was  a bitter 
and  black-winged  wind,  and  rough  waves  rose 
up  to  meet  it.  But  when  the  wind  blew  to  the 
shore,  the  fish  came  in  from  the  deep,  and  swam 
into  the  meshes  of  his  nets,  and  he  took  them  to 
the  market-place  and  sold  them. 

Every  evening  he  went  out  upon  the  sea,  and 
one  evening  the  net  was  so  heavy  that  hardly 
could  he  draw  it  into  the  boat.  And  he  laughed, 
and  said  to  himself,  * Surely  I have  caught  all 
the  fish  that  swim,  or  snared  some  dull  monster 
that  will  be  a marvel  to  men,  or  some  thing  of 
horror  that  the  great  Queen  will  desire/  and 
putting  forth  all  his  strength,  he  tugged  at  the 
coarse  ropes  till,  like  lines  of  blue  enamel  round 


74 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


a vase  of  bronze,  the  long  veins  rose  up  on  his 
arms.  He  tugged  at  the  thin  ropes,  and  nearer 
and  nearer  came  the  circle  of  flat  corks,  and  the 
net  rose  at  last  to  the  top  of  the  water. 

But  no  fish  at  all  was  in  it,  nor  any  monster 
or  thing  of  horror,  but  only  a little  Mermaid 
lying  fast  asleep. 

Her  hair  was  as  a wet  fleece  of  gold,  and  each 
separate  hair  as  a thread  of  fine  gold  in  a cup  of 
glass.  Her  body  was  as  white  ivory,  and  her 
tail  was  of  silver  and  pearl.  Silver  and  pearl 
was  her  tail,  and  the  green  weeds  of  the  sea 
coiled  round  it ; and  like  sea-shells  were  her 
ears,  and  her  lips  were  like  sea-coral.  The  cold 
waves  dashed  over  her  cold  breasts,  and  the  salt 
glistened  upon  her  eyelids. 

So  beautiful  was  she  that  when  the  young 
Fisherman  saw  her  he  was  filled  with  wonder, 
and  he  put  out  his  hand  and  drew  the  net  close 
to  him,  and  leaning  over  the  side  he  clasped 
her  in  his  arms.  And  when  he  touched  her,  she 
gave  a cry  like  a startled  sea-gull,  and  woke,  and 
looked  at  him  in  terror  with  her  mauve-amethyst 
eyes,  and  struggled  that  she  might  escape.  But 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  IIIS  SOUL  75 


he  held  her  tightly  to  him,  and  would  not  suffer 
her  to  depart. 

And  when  she  saw  that  she  could  in  no  way 
escape  from  him,  she  began  to  weep,  and  said,  I 
pray  thee  let  me  go,  for  I am  the  only  daughter 
of  a King,  and  my  father  is  aged  and  alone/ 

But  the  young  Fisherman  answered,  f I will 
not  let  thee  go  save  thou  makest  me  a promise 
that  whenever  I call  thee,  thou  wilt  come  and 
sing  to  me,  for  the  fish  delight  to  listen  to  the 
song  of  the  Sea-folk,  and  so  shall  my  nets  be  full/ 

f In  very  truth  I will  let  thee  go,’  said  the 
young  Fisherman. 

‘ Wilt  thou  in  very  truth  let  me  go,  if  I 
promise  thee  this  ? ’ cried  the  Mermaid. 

So  she  made  him  the  promise  he  desired, 
and  sware  it  by  the  oath  of  the  Sea-folk.  And 
he  loosened  his  arms  from  about  her,  and  she 
sank  down  into  the  water,  trembling  with  a 
strange  fear. 

Every  evening  the  young  Fisherman  went  out 
upon  the  sea,  and  called  to  the  Mermaid,  and 
she  rose  out  of  the  water  and  sang  to  him. 


76 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


Round  and  round  her  swam  the  dolphins,  and 
the  wild  gulls  wheeled  above  her  head. 

And  she  sang  a marvellous  song.  For  she 
sang  of  the  Sea-folk  who  drive  their  flocks  from 
cave  to  cave,  and  carry  the  little  calves  on  their 
shoulders ; of  the  Tritons  who  have  long  green 
beards,  and  hairy  breasts,  and  blow  through 
twisted  conchs  when  the  King  passes  by  ; of  the 
palace  of  the  King  which  is  all  of  amber,  with  a 
roof  of  clear  emerald,  and  a pavement  of  bright 
pearl ; and  of  the  gardens  of  the  sea  where  the 
great  filigrane  fans  of  coral  wave  all  day  long, 
and  the  fish  dart  about  like  silver  birds,  and  the 
anemones  cling  to  the  rocks,  and  the  pinks 
bourgeon  in  the  ribbed  yellow  sand.  She  sang 
of  the  big  whales  that  come  down  from  the 
north  seas  and  have  sharp  icicles  hanging  to 
their  fins;  of  the  Sirens  who  tell  of  such 
wonderful  things  that  the  merchants  have  to 
stop  their  ears  with  wax  lest  they  should  hear 
them,  and  leap  into  the  water  and  be  drowned ; 
of  the  sunken  galleys  with  their  tall  masts,  and 
the  frozen  sailors  clinging  to  the  rigging,  and 
the  mackerel  swimming  in  and  out  of  the  open 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  77 


portholes;  of  the  little  barnacles  who  are  great 
travellers,  and  cling  to  the  keels  of  the  ships 
and  go  round  and  round  the  world ; and  of  the 
cuttlefish  who  live  in  the  sides  of  the  cliffs  and 
stretch  out  their  long  black  arms,  and  can  make 
night  come  when  they  will  it.  She  sang  of  the 
nautilus  who  has  a boat  of  her  own  that  is  carved 
out  of  an  opal  and  steered  with  a silken  sail ; 
of  the  happy  Mermen  who  play  upon  harps  and 
can  charm  the  great  Kraken  to  sleep ; of  the 
little  children  who  catch  hold  of  the  slippery 
porpoises  and  ride  laughing  upon  their  backs ; 
of  the  Mermaids  who  lie  in  the  white  foam  and 
hold  out  their  arms  to  the  mariners ; and  of  the 
sea-lions  with  their  curved  tusks,  and  the  sea- 
horses with  their  floating  manes. 

And  as  she  sang,  all  the  tunny-fish  came  in 
from  the  deep  to  listen  to  her,  and  the  young 
Fisherman  threw  his  nets  round  them  and 
caught  them,  and  others  he  took  with  a spear. 
And  when  his  boat  was  well-laden,  the  Mer- 
maid would  sink  down  into  the  sea,  smiling  at 
him. 

Yet  would  she  never  come  near  him  that  he 


78 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


might  touch  her.  Oftentimes  he  called  to  her 
and  prayed  of  her,  but  she  would  not ; and  when 
he  sought  to  seize  her  she  dived  into  the  water 
as  a seal  might  dive,  nor  did  he  see  her  again 
that  day.  And  each  day  the  sound  of  her  voice 
became  sweeter  to  his  ears.  So  sweet  was  her 
voice  that  he  forgot  his  nets  and  his  cunning, 
and  had  no  care  of  his  craft.  Vermilion-finned 
and  with  eyes  of  bossy  gold,  the  tunnies  went 
by  in  shoals,  but  he  heeded  them  not.  His 
spear  lay  by  his  side  unused,  and  his  baskets  of 
plaited  osier  were  empty.  With  lips  parted, 
and  eyes  dim  with  wonder,  he  sat  idle  in  his 
boat  and  listened,  listening  till  the  sea-mists 
crept  round  him,  and  the  wandering  moon 
stained  his  brown  limbs  with  silver. 

And  one  evening  he  called  to  her,  and  said  : 
' Little  Mermaid,  little  Mermaid,  I love  thee. 
Take  me  for  thy  bridegroom,  for  1 love  thee/ 

But  the  Mermaid  shook  her  head.  'Thou 
hast  a human  soul/  she  answered.  1 If  only 
thou  wouldst  send  away  thy  soul,  then  could  I 
love  thee/ 

And  the  young  Fisherman  said  to  himself, 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  70 


* Of  what  use  is  my  soul  to  me  ? I cannot  see 
it.  I may  not  touch  it.  I do  not  know  it. 
Surely  I will  send  it  away  from  me,  and  much 
gladness  shall  be  mine/  And  a cry  of  joy  broke 
from  his  lips,  and  standing  up  in  the  painted 
boat,  he  held  out  his  arms  to  the  Mermaid.  ‘I 
will  send  my  soul  away/  he  cried,  ‘and  you  shall 
be  my  bride,  and  I will  be  thy  bridegroom,  and 
in  the  depth  of  the  sea  we  will  dwell  together, 
and  all  that  thou  hast  sung  of  thou  shalt  show 
me,  and  all  that  thou  desirest  I will  do,  nor  shall 
our  lives  be  divided/ 

And  the  little  Mermaid  laughed  for  pleasure 
and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

e But  how  shall  I send  my  soul  from  me  ? ' 
cried  the  young  Fisherman.  ‘Tell  me  how  I 
may  do  it,  and  lo ! it  shall  be  done/ 

‘Alas!  I know  not/  said  the  little  Mermaid: 
‘the  Sea-folk  have  no  souls/  And  she  sank 
down  into  the  deep,  looking  wistfully  at  him. 

Now  early  on  the  next  morning,  before  the 
sun  was  the  span  of  a man’s  hand  above  the 
hill/  the  young  Fisherman  went  to  the  house 


80 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


of  the  Priest  and  knocked  three  times  at  the 
door. 

The  novice  looked  out  through  the  wicket, 
and  when  he  saw  who  it  was,  he  drew  back  the 
latch  and  said  to  him,  ‘ Enter/ 

And  the  young  Fisherman  passed  in,  and 
knelt  down  on  the  sweet-smelling  rushes  of  the 
floor,  and  cried  to  the  Priest  who  was  reading 
out  of  the  Holy  Book  and  said  to  him,  f Father, 
I am  in  love  with  one  of  the  Sea-folk,  and  my 
soul  hindereth  me  from  having  my  desire.  Tell 
me  how  I can  send  my  soul  away  from  me,  for 
in  truth  I have  no  need  of  it.  Of  what  value  is 
my  soul  to  me  ? I cannot  see  it.  I may  not 
touch  it.  I do  not  know  it/ 

And  the  Priest  beat  his  breast,  and  answered, 
f Alack,  alack,  thou  art  mad,  or  hast  eaten  of 
some  poisonous  herb,  for  the  soul  is  the  noblest 
part  of  man,  and  was  given  to  us  by  God  that 
we  should  nobly  use  it.  There  is  no  thing  more 
precious  than  a human  soul,  nor  any  earthly 
thing  that  can  be  weighed  with  it.  It  is  worth 
all  the  gold  that  is  in  the  world,  and  is  more 
precious  than  the  rubies  of  the  kings.  There- 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  81 


fore,  my  son,  think  not  any  more  of  this  matter, 
for  it  is  a sin  that  may  not  be  forgiven.  And 
as  for  the  Sea-folk,  they  are  lost,  and  they  who 
would  traffic  with  them  are  lost  also.  They  are 
as  the  beasts  of  the  field  that  know  not  good 
from  evil,  and  for  them  the  Lord  has  not  died/ 

The  young  Fisherman's  eyes  filled  with  tears 
when  he  heard  the  bitter  words  of  the  Priest, 
and  he  rose  up  from  his  knees  and  said  to  him, 
‘Father,  the  Fauns  live  in  the  forest  and  are 
glad,  and  on  the  rocks  sit  the  Mermen  with 
their  harps  of  red  gold.  Let  me  be  as  they  are, 
I beseech  thee,  for  their  days  are  as  the  days  of 
flowers.  And  as  for  my  soul,  what  doth  my  soul 
profit  me,  if  it  stand  between  me  and  the  thing 
that  I love  ? * 

‘ The  love  of  the  body  is  vile/  cried  the  Priest, 
knitting  his  brows,  f and  vile  and  evil  are  the 
pagan  things  God  suffers  to  wander  through 
His  world.  Accursed  be  the  Fauns  of  the 
woodland,  and  accursed  be  the  singers  of  the 

s 

sea  ! I have  heard  them  at  night-time,  and  they 
have  sought  to  lure  me  from  my  beads.  They 
tap  at  the  window,  and  laugh.  They  whisper 


82 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


into  my  ears  the  tale  of  their  perilous  joys. 
They  tempt  me  with  temptations,  and  when  I 
would  pray  they  make  mouths  at  me.  They  are 
lost,  I tell  thee,  they  are  lost.  For  them  there 
is  no  heaven  nor  hell,  and  in  neither  shall  they 
praise  God’s  name/ 

'Father/  cried  the  young  Fisherman,  'thou 
knowest  not  what  thou  sayest.  Once  in  my 
net  I snared  the  daughter  of  a King.  She  is 
fairer  than  the  morning  star,  and  whiter  than 
the  moon.  For  her  body  I would  give  my  soul, 
and  for  her  love  I would  surrender  heaven.  Tell 
me  what  I ask  of  thee,  and  let  me  go  in  peace/ 

'Away!  Away!'  cried  the  Priest:  'thy 
leman  is  lost,  and  thou  shalt  be  lost  with  her/ 
And  he  gave  him  no  blessing,  but  drove  him 
from  his  door. 

And  the  young  Fisherman  went  down  into 
the  market-place,  and  he  walked  slowly,  and 
with  bowed  head,  as  one  who  is  in  sorrow. 

And  when  the  merchants  saw  him  coming, 
they  began  to  whisper  to  each  other,  and  one  of 
them  came  forth  to  meet  him,  and  called  him  by 
name,  and  said  to  him,  ' What  hast  thou  to  sell  ? ’ 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  83 


‘I  will  sell  thee  my  soul,’  he  answered.  ‘I 
pray  thee  buy  it  of  me,  for  I am  weary  of 
it.  Of  what  use  is  my  soul  to  me  ? I cannot 
see  it.  I may  not  touch  it.  I do  not  know 
it.’ 

But  the  merchants  mocked  at  him,  and  said, 

* Of  what  use  is  a man’s  soul  to  us  ? It  is  not 
worth  a clipped  piece  of  silver.  Sell  us  thy 
body  for  a slave,  and  we  will  clothe  thee  in  sea- 
purple,  and  put  a ring  upon  thy  finger,  and 
make  thee  the  minion  of  the  great  Queen.  But 
talk  not  of  the  soul,  for  to  us  it  is  nought,  nor 
has  it  any  value  for  our  service.’ 

And  the  young  Fisherman  said  to  himself : 
f How  strange  a thing  this  is  ! The  Priest  telleth 
me  that  the  soul  is  worth  all  the  gold  in  the 
world,  and  the  merchants  say  that  it  is  not 
worth  a clipped  piece  of  silver.’  And  he  passed 
out  of  the  market-place,  and  went  down  to  the 
shore  of  the  sea,  and  began  to  ponder  on  what 
he  should  do. 

s 

And  at  noon  he  remembered  how  one  of  his 
companions,  who  was  a gatherer  of  samphire, 


84 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


had  told  him  of  a certain  young  Witch  who 
dwelt  in  a cave  at  the  head  of  the  bay  and  was 
very  cunning  in  her  witcheries.  And  he  set  to 
and  ran,  so  eager  was  he  to  get  rid  of  his  soul, 
and  a cloud  of  dust  followed  him  as  he  sped 
round  the  sand  of  the  shore.  By  the  itching  of 
her  palm  the  young  Witch  knew  his  coming, 
and  she  laughed  and  let  down  her  red  hair. 
With  her  red  hair  falling  around  her,  she  stood 
at  the  opening  of  the  cave,  and  in  her  Land  she 
had  a spray  of  wild  hemlock  that  was  blossoming. 

‘ What  d’  ye  lack  ? What  d’  ye  lack  r * she 
cried,  as  he  came  panting  up  the  steep,  and  bent 
down  before  her.  Fish  for  thy  net,  when  the 
wind  is  foul  ? I have  a little  reed-pipe,  and 
when  I blow  on  it  the  mullet  come  sailing  into 
the  bay.  But  it  has  a price,  pretty  boy,  it  has 
a price.  What  d’  ye  lack  ? What  d’  ye  lack  ? 
A storm  to  wreck  the  ships,  and  wash  the  chests 
of  rich  treasure  ashore  ? I have  more  storms 
than  the  wind  has,  for  I serve  one  who  is  stronger 
than  the  wind,  and  with  a sieve  and  a pail  of 
water  I can  send  the  great  galleys  to  the  bottom 
of  the  sea.  But  I have  a price,  pretty  boy,  1 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  85 


have  a price.  What  d’  ye  lack  ? What  d’  ye 
lack  ? I know  a flower  that  grows  in  the  valley, 
none  knows  it  but  I.  It  has  purple  leaves,  and 
a star  in  its  heart,  and  its  juice  is  as  white  as 
milk.  Shouldst  thou  touch  with  this  flower 
the  hard  lips  of  the  Queen,  she  would  follow 
thee  all  over  the  world.  Out  of  the  bed  of  the 
King  she  would  rise,  and  over  the  whole  world 
she  would  follow  thee.  And  it  has  a price, 
pretty  boy,  it  has  a price.  What  d’ye  lack? 
What  d’  ye  lack  ? I can  pound  a toad  in  a 
mortar,  and  make  broth  of  it,  and  stir  the  broth 
with  a dead  man’s  hand.  Sprinkle  it  on  thine 
enemy  while  he  sleeps,  and  he  will  turn  into  a 
black  viper,  and  his  own  mother  will  slay  him. 
With  a wheel  I can  draw  the  Moon  from  heaven, 
and  in  a crystal  I can  show  thee  Death.  What 
d’ye  lack?  What  d’ye  lack?  Tell  me  thy 

desire,  and  I will  give  it  thee,  and  thou  shalt 

\ 

pay  me  a price,  pretty  boy,  thou  shalt  pay  me 
a price.’ 

‘ My  desire  is  but  for  a little  thing,’  said  the 
young  Fisherman,  'yet  hath  the  Priest  been 
wroth  with  me,  and  driven  me  forth.  It  is  but 


86 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


for  a little  thing,  and  the  merchants  have  mocked 
at  me,  and  denied  me.  Therefore  am  I come 
to  thee,  though  men  call  thee  evil,  and  whatever 
be  thy  price  I shall  pay  it/ 

* What  wouldst  thou  ? * asked  the  Witch, 
coming  near  to  him. 

‘ I would  send  my  soul  away  from  me/ 
answered  the  young  Fisherman. 

The  Witch  grew  pale,  and  shuddered,  and 
hid  her  face  in  her  blue  mantle.  ' Pretty  boy, 
pretty  boy/  she  muttered,  'that  is  a terrible 
thing  to  do/ 

He  tossed  his  brown  curls  and  laughed. 
' My  soul  is  nought  to  me/  he  answered.  c I 
cannot  see  it.  I may  not  touch  it.  I do  not 
know  it/ 

' What  wilt  thou  give  me  if  I tell  thee  ? * 
asked  the  Witch,  looking  down  at  him  with  her 
beautiful  eyes. 

* Five  pieces  of  gold/  he  said,  c and  my  nets, 
and  the  wattled  house  where  I live,  and  the 
painted  boat  in  which  I sail.  Only  tell  me  how 
to  get  rid  of  my  soul,  and  I will  give  thee  all 
that  I possess/ 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  87 


She  laughed  mockingly  at  him,  and  struck 
him  with  the  spray  of  hemlock.  ' I can  turn 
the  autumn  leaves  into  gold/  she  answered, 
'and  I can  weave  the  pale  moonbeams  into 
silver  if  I will  it.  He  whom  I serve  is  richer 
than  all  the  kings  of  this  world,  and  has  their 
dominions.* 

'What  then  shall  I give  thee,*  he  cried,  'if 
thy  price  be  neither  gold  nor  silver?* 

The  Witch  stroked  his  hair  with  her  thin 
white  hand.  ' Thou  must  dance  with  me,  pretty 
boy,*  she  murmured,  and  she  smiled  at  him  as 
she  spoke. 

' Nought  but  that  ? * cried  the  young  Fisherman 
in  wonder,  and  he  rose  to  his  feet. 

' Nought  but  that,*  she  answered,  and  she 
smiled  at  him  again. 

' Then  at  sunset  in  some  secret  place  we  shall 
dance  together/  he  said, 'and  after  that  we  have 
danced  thou  shalt  tell  me  the  thing  which  I 
desire  to  know.* 

She  shook  her  head.  ' When  the  moon  is  full, 
when  the  moon  is  full/  she  muttered.  Then  she 
peered  all  round,  and  listened.  A blue  bird 


88 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


rose  screaming  from  its  nest  and  circled  over  the 
dunes,  and  three  spotted  birds  rustled  through 
the  coarse  grey  grass  and  whistled  to  each  other. 
There  was  no  other  sound  save  the  sound  of 
a wave  fretting  the  smooth  pebbles  below.  So 
she  reached  out  her  hand,  and  drew  him  near  to 
her  and  put  her  dry  lips  close  to  his  ear. 

c To-night  thou  must  come  to  the  top  of  the 
mountain/  she  whispered.  ‘ It  is  a Sabbath,  and 
He  will  be  there/ 

The  young  Fisherman  started  and  looked  at 
her,  and  she  showed  her  white  teeth  and  laughed. 
' Who  is  He  of  whom  thou  speakest  ?*  he  asked. 

c It  matters  not/  she  answered.  ‘ Go  thou 
to-night,  and  stand  under  the  branches  of  the 
hornbeam,  and  wait  for  my  coming.  If  a black 
dog  run  towards  thee,  strike  it  with  a rod  of 
willow,  and  it  will  go  away.  If  an  owl  speak 
to  thee,  make  it  no  answer.  When  the  moon 
is  full  I shall  be  with  thee,  and  we  will  dance 
together  on  the  grass/ 

‘ But  wilt  thou  swear  to  me  to  tell  me  how  I 
may  send  my  soul  from  me  ? ' he  made  question. 

She  moved  out  into  the  sunlight,  and  through 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  89 


her  red  hair  rippled  the  wind.  ‘ By  the  hoofs 
of  the  goat  I swear  it/  she  made  answer. 

‘Thou  art  the  best  of  the  witches/  cried  the 
young  Fisherman,  ‘and  I will  surely  dance  with 
thee  to-night  on  the  top  of  the  mountain.  I 
would  indeed  that  thou  hadst  asked  of  me  either 
gold  or  silver.  But  such  as  thy  price  is  thou 
shalt  have  it,  for  it  is  but  a little  thing/  And 
he  doffed  his  cap  to  her,  and  bent  his  head  low, 
and  ran  back  to  the  town  filled  with  a great  joy. 

And  the  Witch  watched  him  as  he  went,  and 
when  he  had  passed  from  her  sight  she  entered 
her  cave,  and  having  taken  a mirror  from  a box 
of  carved  cedarwood,  she  set  it  up  on  a frame, 
and  burned  vervain  on  lighted  charcoal  before 
it,  and  peered  through  the  coils  of  the  smoke. 
And  after  a time  she  clenched  her  hands  in 
anger.  ‘ He  should  have  been  mine/  she 
muttered,  ‘ I am  as  fair  as  she  is/ 

And  that  evening,  when  the  moon  had  risen, 
the  young  Fisherman  climbed  up  to  the  top  of 
the  mountain,  and  stood  under  the  branches  of 
the  hornbeam.  Like  a targe  of  polished  metal 


DO 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


the  round  sea  lay  at  his  feet,  and  the  shadows 
of  the  fishing-boats  moved  in  the  little  bay.  A 
great  owl,  with  yellow  sulphurous  eyes,  called 
to  him  by  his  name,  but  he  made  it  no  answer. 
A black  dog  ran  towards  him  and  snarled.  He 
struck  it  with  a rod  of  willow,  and  it  went  away 
whining. 

At  midnight  the  witches  came  flying  through 
the  air  like  bats.  ‘ Phew  ! ' they  cried,  as  they 
lit  upon  the  ground,  ‘ there  is  some  one  here  we 
know  not!’  and  they  sniffed  about,  and  chattered 
to  each  other,  and  made  signs.  Last  of  all  came 
the  young  Witch,  with  her  red  hair  streaming 
in  the  wind.  She  wore  a dress  of  gold  tissue 
embroidered  with  peacocks’  eyes,  and  a little 
cap  of  green  velvet  was  on  her  head. 

e Where  is  he,  where  is  he  ? ' shrieked  the 
witches  when  they  saw  her,  but  she  only  laughed, 
and  ran  to  the  hornbeam,  and  taking  the  Fisher- 
man by  the  hand  she  led  him  out  into  the 
moonlight  and  began  to  dance. 

Round  and  round  they  whirled,  and  the  young 
Witch  jumped  so  high  that  he  could  see  the 
scarlet  heels  of  her  shoes.  Then  right  across 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  91 


the  dancers  came  the  sound  of  the  galloping  of 
a horse,  but  no  horse  was  to  be  seen,  and  he  felt 
afraid. 

‘ Faster/  cried  the  Witch,  and  she  threw  her 
arms  about  his  neck,  and  her  breath  was  hot 
upon  his  face.  f Faster,  faster ! * she  cried,  and 
the  earth  seemed  to  spin  beneath  his  feet,  and 
his  brain  grew  troubled,  and  a great  terror  fell 
on  him,  as  of  some  evil  thing  that  was  watching 
him,  and  at  last  he  became  aware  that  under 
the  shadow  of  a rock  there  was  a figure  that 
had  not  been  there  before. 

It  was  a man  dressed  in  a suit  of  black  velvet, 
cut  in  the  Spanish  fashion.  His  face  was 
strangely  pale,  but  his  lips  were  like  a proud 
red  flower.  He  seemed  weary,  and  was  leaning 

back  toying  in  a listless  manner  with  the  pommel 

\ 

of  his  dagger.  On  the  grass  beside  him  lay  a 
plumed  hat,  and  a pair  of  riding-gloves  gaunt- 
leted  with  gilt  lace,  and  sewn  with  seed-pearls 
wrought  into  a curious  device.  A short  cloak 
lined  with  sables  hung  from  his  shoulder,  and 
his  delicate  white  hands  were  gemmed  with 
rings.  Heavy  eyelids  drooped  over  his  eyes. 


92 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


The  young  Fisherman  watched  him,  as  one 
snared  in  a spell.  At  last  their  eyes  met,  and 
wherever  he  danced  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
eyes  of  the  man  were  upon  him.  He  heard  the 
Witch  laugh,  and  caught  her  by  the  waist,  and 
whirled  her  madly  round  and  round. 

Suddenly  a dog  bayed  in  the  wood,  and  the 
dancers  stopped,  and  going  up  two  by  two, 
knelt  down,  and  kissed  the  man's  hands.  As 
they  did  so,  a little  smile  touched  his  proud  lips, 
as  a bird's  wing  touches  the  water  and  makes  it 
laugh.  But  there  was  disdain  in  it.  He  kept 
looking  at  the  young  Fisherman. 

‘Come!  let  us  worship,'  whispered  the  Witch, 
and  she  led  him  up,  and  a great  desire  to  do  as 
she  besought  him  seized  on  him,  and  he  followed 
her.  But  when  he  came  close,  and  without 
knowing  why  he  did  it,  he  made  on  his  breast 
the  sign  of  the  Cross,  and  called  upon  the  holy 
name. 

No  sooner  had  he  done  so  than  the  witches 
screamed  like  hawks  and  flew  away,  and  the 
pallid  face  that  had  been  watching  him  twitched 
with  a spasm  of  pain.  The  man  went  over  to 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL 


93 


a little  wood,  and  whistled.  A jennet  with 
silver  trappings  came  running  to  meet  him.  As 
he  leapt  upon  the  saddle  he  turned  round,  and 
looked  at  the  young  Fisherman  sadly. 

And  the  Witch  with  the  red  hair  tried  to  fly 
away  also,  but  the  Fisherman  caught  her  by  her 
wrists,  and  held  her  fast. 

‘ Loose  me/  she  cri  d,  ‘and  let  me  go.  For 
thou  hast  named  what  should  not  be  named, 
and  shown  the  sign  that  may  not  be  looked  at/ 

‘Nay/  he  answered,  ‘but  I will  not  let  thee 
go  till  thou  hast  told  me  the  secret/ 

‘What  secret?*  said  the  Witch,  wrestling 
with  him  like  a wild  cat,  and  biting  her  foam- 
flecked  lips. 

‘Thou  knowest/  he  made  answer. 

Her  grass-green  eyes  grew  dim  with  tears, 
and  she  said  to  the  Fisherman,  ‘Ask  me  any- 
thing but  that ! * 

He  laughed,  and  held  her  all  the  more 
tightly. 

And  when  she  saw  that  she  could  not  free 
herself,  she  whispered  to  him,  ‘ Surely  I am  as 
fair  as  the  daughters  of  the  sea,  and  as  comely 


94 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


as  those  that  dwell  in  the  blue  waters/  and  she 
fawned  on  him  and  put  her  face  close  to  his. 

But  he  thrust  her  back  frowning,  and  said 
to  her,  ‘ If  thou  keepest  not  the  promise  that 
thou  madest  to  me  I will  slay  thee  for  a false 
witch.’ 

She  grew  grey  as  a blossom  of  the  Judas  tree, 
and  shuddered.  ‘ Be  it  so/  she  muttered.  ‘It 
is  thy  soul  and  not  mine.  Do  with  it  as  thou 
wilt/  And  she  took  from  her  girdle  a little 
knife  that  had  a handle  of  green  viper’s  skin, 
and  gave  it  to  him. 

‘ What  shall  this  serve  me  ? ' he  asked  of  her, 
wondering. 

She  was  silent  for  a few  moments,  and  a look 
of  terror  came  over  her  face.  Then  she  brushed 
her  hair  back  from  her  forehead,  and  smiling 
strangely  she  said  to  him,  ‘What  men  call  the 
shadow  of  the  body  is  not  the  shadow  of  the 
body,  but  is  the  body  of  the  soul.  Stand  on 
the  sea-shore  with  thy  back  to  the  moon,  and 
cut  away  from  around  thy  feet  thy  shadow, 
which  is  thy  soul’s  body,  and  bid  thy  soul  leave 
thee,  and  it  will  do  so/ 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  95 


The  young  Fisherman  trembled.  4 Is  this 
true?’  he  murmured. 

‘ It  is  true,  and  I would  that  I had  not  told 
thee  of  it/  she  cried,  and  she  clung  to  his  knees 
weeping. 

He  put  her  from  him  and  left  her  in  the  rank 
grass,  and  going  to  the  edge  of  the  mountain  he 
placed  the  knife  in  his  belt  and  began  to  climb 
down. 

And  his  Soul  that  was  within  him  called  out 
to  him  and  said,  4 Lo  ! I have  dwelt  with  thee 
for  all  these  years,  and  have  been  thy  servant. 
Send  me  not  away  from  thee  now,  for  what  evil 
have  I done  thee  ? ’ 

And  the  young  Fisherman  laughed.  4 Thou 
hast  done  me  no  evil,  but  I have  no  need  of 
thee,-  he  answered.  4 The  world  is  wide,  and 
there  is  Heaven  also,  and  Hell,  and  that  dim 
twilight  house  that  lies  between.  Go  wherever 
thou  wrilt,  but  trouble  me  not,  for  my  love  is 
calling  to  me.’ 

And  his  Soul  besought  him  piteously,  but  he 
heeded  it  not,  but  leapt  from  crag  to  crag,  being 
sure-footed  as  a wild  goat,  and  at  last  he  reached 


96 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


the  level  ground  and  the  yellow  shore  of  the 
sea. 

Bronze-limbed  and  well-knit,  like  a statue 
wrought  by  a Grecian,  he  stood  on  the  sand 
with  his  back  to  the  moon,  and  out  of  the  foam 
came  white  arms  that  beckoned  to  him,  and  out 
of  the  waves  rose  dim  forms  that  did  him 
homage.  Before  him  lay  his  shadow,  which 
was  the  body  of  his  soul,  and  behind  him  hung 
the  moon  in  the  honey-coloured  air. 

And  his  Soul  said  to  him,  f If  indeed  thou 
must  drive  me  from  thee,  send  me  not  forth 
without  a heart.  The  world  is  cruel,  give  me 
thy  heart  to  take  with  me/ 

He  tossed  his  head  and  smiled.  ‘ With  what 
should  I love  my  love  if  I gave  thee  my  heart  ? ’ 
he  cried. 

‘Nay,  but  be  merciful,’  said  his  Soul:  ‘give 
me  thy  heart,  for  the  world  is  very  cruel,  and  I 
am  afraid/ 

‘ My  heart  is  my  love's/  he  answered,  ‘ there- 
fore tarry  not,  but  get  thee  gone.' 

‘Should  I not  love  also  ?'  asked  his  Soul. 

‘ Get  thee  gone,  for  I have  no  need  of  thee/ 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  97 


cried  the  young  Fisherman,  and  he  took  the 
little  knife  with  its  handle  of  green  viper’s  skin, 
and  cut  away  his  shadow  from  around  his  feet, 
and  it  rose  up  and  stood  before  him,  and  looked 
at  him,  and  it  was  even  as  himself. 

He  crept  back,  and  thrust  the  knife  into  his 
belt,  and  a feeling  of  awe  came  over  him.  ' Get 
thee  gone/  he  murmured,  'and  let  me  see  thy 
face  no  more/ 

'Nay,  but  we  must  meet  again/  said  the  Soul. 
Its  voice  was  low  and  flute-like,  and  its  lips 
hardly  moved  while  it  spake. 

' How  shall  we  meet  ? * cried  the  young  Fisher- 
man. ' Thou  wilt  not  follow  me  into  the  depths 
of  the  sea  ? * 

' Once  every  year  I will  come  to  this  place, 
and  call  to  thee/  said  the  Soul.  ' It  may  be 
that  thou  wilt  have  need  of  me/ 

€ What  need  should  I have  of  thee  ? ’ cried  the 
young  Fisherman,  'but  be  it  as  thou  wilt,’  and 
he  plunged  into  the  water,  and  the  Tritons  blew 
their  horns,  and  the  little  Mermaid  rose  up  to 
meet  him,  and  put  her  arms  around  his  neck 
and  kissed  him  on  the  mouth. 

Q 


98 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


And  the  Soul  stood  on  the  lonely  beach  and 
watched  them.  And  when  they  had  sunk  down 
into  the  sea,  it  went  weeping  away  over  the 
marshes. 

And  after  a year  was  over  the  Soul  came 
down  to  the  shore  of  the  sea  and  called  to  the 
young  Fisherman,  and  he  rose  out  of  the  deep, 
and  said,  f Why  dost  thou  call  to  me?’ 

And  the  Soul  answered,  ( Come  nearer,  that 
I may  speak  with  thee,  for  I have  seen  marvel- 
lous things/ 

So  he  came  nearer,  and  couched  in  the  shallow 
water,  and  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand  and 
listened. 

And  the  Soul  said  to  him,  fWhen  I left  thee 
I turned  my  face  to  the  East  and  journeyed. 
From  the  East  cometh  everything  that  is  wise. 
Six  days  I journeyed,  and  on  the  morning  of  the 
seventh  day  I came  to  a hill  that  is  in  the 
country  of  the  Tartars.  I sat  down  under  the 
shade  of  a tamarisk  tree  to  shelter  myself  from 
the  sun.  The  land  was  dry  and  burnt  up  witli 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL 


99 


the  heat.  The  people  went  to  and  fro  over  the 
plain  like  flies  crawling  upon  a disk  of  polished 
copper. 

"When  it  was  noon  a cloud  of  red  dust  rose 
up  from  the  flat  rim  of  the  land.  When  the 
Tartars  saw  it,  they  strung  their  painted  bows, 
and  having  leapt  upon  their  little  horses  they 
galloped  to  meet  it.  The  women  fled  scream- 
ing to  the  waggons,  and  hid  themselves  behind 
the  felt  curtains. 

" At  twilight  the  Tartars  returned,  but  five  of 
them  were  missing,  and  of  those  that  came  back 
not  a few  had  been  wounded.  They  harnessed 
their  horses  to  the  waggons  and  drove  hastily 
away.  Three  jackals  came  out  of  a cave  and 
peered  after  them.  Then  they  sniffed  up  the 
air  with  their  nostrils,  and  trotted  off  in  the 
opposite  direction. 

"When  the  moon  rose  I saw  a camp-fire 
burning  on  the  plain,  and  went  towards  it.  A 
company  of  merchants  were  seated  round  it  on 
carpets.  Their  camels  were  picketed  behind 
them,  and  the  negroes  who  were  their  servants 
were  pitching  tents  of  tanned  skin  upon  the 


100 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


sand,  and  making  a high  wall  of  the  prickly 
pear. 

‘ As  I came  near  them,  the  chief  of  the  mer- 
chants rose  up  and  drew  his  sword,  and  asked 
me  my  business. 

‘ I answered  that  I was  a Prince  in  my  own 
land,  and  that  I had  escaped  from  the  Tartars, 
who  had  sought  to  make  me  their  slave.  The 
chief  smiled,  and  showed  me  five  heads  fixed 
upon  long  reeds  of  bamboo. 

‘Then  he  asked  me  who  was  the  prophet  of 
God,  and  I answered  him  Mohammed. 

‘When  he  heard  the  name  of  the  false  pro- 
phet, he  bowed  and  took  me  by  the  hand,  and 
placed  me  by  his  side.  A negro  brought  me 
some  mare’s  milk  in  a wooden  dish,  and  a piece 
of  lamb’s  flesh  roasted. 

‘At  daybreak  we  started  on  our  journey.  I 
rode  on  a red-haired  camel  by  the  side  of  the 
chief,  and  a runner  ran  before  us  carrying  a 
spear.  The  men  of  war  were  on  either  hand, 
and  the  mules  followed  with  the  merchandise. 
There  were  forty  camels  in  the  caravan,  and  the 
mules  were  twice  forty  in  number. 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  101 


'We  went  from  the  country  of  the  Tartars 
into  the  country  of  those  who  curse  the  Moon. 
We  saw  the  Gryphons  guarding  their  gold  on 
the  white  rocks,  and  the  scaled  Dragons  sleeping 
in  their  caves.  As  we  passed  over  the  mountains 
we  held  our  breath  lest  the  snows  might  fall  on 
us,  and  each  man  tied  a veil  of  gauze  before  his 
eyes.  As  we  passed  through  the  valleys  the 
Pygmies  shot  arrows  at  us  from  the  hollows  of 
the  trees,  and  at  night-time  we  heard  the  wild 
men  beating  on  their  drums.  When  we  came 
to  the  Tower  of  Apes  we  set  fruits  before  them, 
and  they  did  not  harm  us.  When  we  came  to 
the  Tower  of  Serpents  we  gave  them  warm  milk 
in  bowls  of  brass,  and  they  let  us  go  by.  Three 
times  in  our  journey  we  came  to  the  banks  of 
the  Oxus.  We  crossed  it  on  rafts  of  wood  with 
great  bladders  of  blown  hide.  The  river-horses 
>*aged  against  us  and  sought  to  slay  us.  When 
the  camels  saw  them  they  trembled. 

'The  kings  of  each  city  levied  tolls  on  us, 
but  would  not  suffer  us  to  enter  their  gates. 
They  threw  us  bread  over  the  walls,  little  maize- 
cakes  baked  in  honey  and  cakes  of  fine  floui 


102 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


filled  with  dates.  For  every  hundred  baskets 
we  gave  them  a bead  of  amber. 

f When  the  dwellers  in  the  villages  saw  us 
coming,  they  poisoned  the  wells  and  fled  to  the 
hill-summits.  We  fought  with  the  Magadae 
who  are  born  old,  and  grow  younger  and  younger 
every  year,  and  die  when  they  are  little  children ; 
and  with  the  Laktroi  who  say  that  they  are  the 
sons  of  tigers,  and  paint  themselves  yellow  and 
black  ; and  with  the  Aurantes  who  bury  their 
dead  on  the  tops  of  trees,  and  themselves  live 
in  dark  caverns  lest  the  Sun,  who  is  their  god, 
should  slay  them ; and  with  the  Krimnians  who 
worship  a crocodile,  and  give  it  earrings  of 
green  glass,  and  feed  it  with  butter  and  fresh 
fowls ; and  with  the  Agazonbae,  who  are  dog- 
faced ; and  with  the  Sibans,  who  have  horses’ 
feet,  and  run  more  swiftly  than  horses.  A third 
of  our  company  died  in  battle,  and  a third  died 
of  want.  The  rest  murmured  against  me,  and 
said  that  I had  brought  them  an  evil  fortune.  I 
took  a horned  adder  from  beneath  a stone  and 
let  it  sting  me.  When  they  saw  that  I did  not 
sicken  they  grew  afraid. 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  103 


c In  the  fourth  month  we  reached  the  city  of 
Illel.  It  was  night-time  when  we  came  to  the 
grove  that  is  outside  the  walls,  and  the  air  was 
sultry,  for  the  Moon  was  travelling  in  Scorpion. 
We  took  the  ripe  pomegranates  from  the  trees, 
and  brake  them,  and  drank  their  sweet  juices. 
Then  we  lay  down  on  our  carpets  and  waited 
for  the  dawn. 

‘ And  at  dawn  we  rose  and  knocked  at  the 
gate  of  the  city.  It  was  wrought  out  of  red 
bronze,  and  carved  with  sea-dragons  and  dragons 
that  have  wings.  The  guards  looked  down  from 
the  battlements  and  asked  us  our  business.  The 
interpreter  of  the  caravan  answered  that  we 
had  come  from  the  island  of  Syria  with  much 
merchandise.  They  took  hostages,  and  told  us 
that  they  would  open  the  gate  to  us  at  noon, 
and  bade  us  tarry  till  then. 

‘When  it  was  noon  they  opened  the  gate, 
and  as  we  entered  in  the  people  came  crowding 
out  of  the  houses  to  look  at  us,  and  a crier  went 
round  the  city  crying  through  a shell.  We 
stood  in  the  market-place,  and  the  negroes 
uncorded  the  bales  of  figured  cloths  and  opened 


104 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


the  carved  chests  of  sycamore.  And  when  they 
had  ended  their  task,  the  merchants  set  forth 
their  strange  wares,  the  waxed  linen  from  Egypt 
and  the  painted  linen  from  the  country  of  the 
Ethiops,  the  purple  sponges  from  Tyre  and  the 
blue  hangings  from  Sidon,  the  cups  of  cold 
amber  and  the  fine  vessels  of  glass  and  the 
curious  vessels  of  burnt  clay.  Fiom  the  roof 
of  a house  a company  of  women  watched  us. 
One  of  them  wore  a mask  of  gilded  leather. 

‘And  on  the  first  day  the  priests  came  and 
bartered  with  us,  and  on  the  second  day  came 
the  nobles,  and  on  the  third  day  came  the  crafts- 
men and  the  slaves.  And  this  is  their  custom 
with  all  merchants  as  long  as  they  tarry  in  the 
city. 

‘And  we  tarried  for  a moon,  and  when  the 
moon  was  waning,  I wearied  and  wandered  away 
through  the  streets  of  the  city  and  came  to  the 
garden  of  its  god.  The  priests  in  their  yellow 
robes  moved  silently  through  the  green  trees, 
and  on  a pavement  of  black  marble  stood  the 
rose-red  house  in  which  the  god  had  his  dwelling. 
Its  doors  were  of  powdered  lacquer,  and  bulls 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  105 


and  peacocks  were  wrought  on  them  in  raised 
and  polished  gold.  The  tilted  roof  was  of  sea- 
green  porcelain,  and  the  jutting  eaves  were 
festooned  with  little  bells.  When  the  white 
doves  flew  past,  they  struck  the  bells  with  their 
wings  and  made  them  tinkle. 

‘ In  front  of  the  temple  was  a pool  of  clear 
water  paved  with  veined  onyx.  I lay  down 
beside  it,  and  with  my  pale  fingers  I touched 
the  broad  leaves.  One  of  the  priests  came 
towards  me  and  stood  behind  me.  He  had 
sandals  on  his  feet,  one  of  soft  serpent-skin  and 
the  other  of  birds*  plumage.  On  his  head  was 
a mitre  of  black  felt  decorated  with  silver 
crescents.  Seven  yellows  were  woven  into  his 
robe,  and  his  frizzed  hair  was  stained  with 
antimony. 

‘ After  a little  while  he  spake  to  me,  and 
asked  me  my  desire. 

s I told  him  that  my  desire  was  to  see  the 
god. 

‘“The  god  is  hunting/'  said  the  priest,  look- 
ing strangely  at  me  with  his  small  slanting 
eyes. 


106 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


‘“Tell  me  in  what  forest,  and  I will  ride  with 
him,”  I answered. 

‘ He  combed  out  the  soft  fringes  of  his  tunic 
with  his  long  pointed  nails.  “ The  god  is  asleep,” 
he  murmured. 

f"Tell  me  on  what  couch,  and  I will  watch  by 
him,”  I answered. 

e “ The  god  is  at  the  feast,”  he  cried. 

‘ “ If  the  wine  be  sweet  I will  drink  it  with 
him,  and  if  it  be  bitter  I will  drink  it  with  him 
also,”  was  my  answer. 

‘ He  bowed  his  head  in  wonder,  and,  taking 
me  by  the  hand,  he  raised  me  up,  and  led  me 
into  the  temple. 

* And  in  the  first  chamber  I saw  an  idol  seated 
on  a throne  of  jasper  bordered  with  great  orient 
pearls.  It  was  carved  out  of  ebony,  and  in 
stature  was  of  the  stature  of  a man.  On  its 
forehead  was  a ruby,  and  thick  oil  dripped  from 
its  hair  on  to  its  thighs.  Its  feet  were  red  with 
the  blood  of  a newly-slain  kid,  and  its  loins  girt 
with  a copper  belt  that  was  studded  with  seven 
beryls. 

‘ And  I said  to  the  priest,  "Is  this  the 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  107 

god  ? ” And  he  uiiswered  me,  “ This  is  the 
god.” 

'“Show  me  the  god,”  I cried,  “or  I will  surely 
slay  thee.”  And  I touched  his  hand,  and  it 
became  withered. 

'And  the  priest  besought  me,  saying,  “Let 
my  lord  heal  his  servant,  and  I will  show  him 
the  god.” 

' So  I breathed  with  my  breath  upon  his  hand, 
and  it  became  whole  again,  and  he  trembled  and 
led  me  into  the  second  chamber,  and  I saw  an 
idol  standing  on  a lotus  of  jade  hung  with  great 
emeralds.  It  was  carved  out  of  ivory,  and  in 
stature  was  twice  the  stature  of  a man.  On  its 
forehead  was  a chrysolite,  and  its  breasts  were 
smeared  with  myrrh  and  cinnamon.  In  one 
hand  it  held  a crooked  sceptre  of  jade,  and  in  the 
other  a round  crystal.  It  ware  buskins  of  brass, 
and  its  thick  neck  was  circled  with  a circle  of 
selenites. 

' And  I said  to  the  priest,  “ Is  this  the 
god?”  And  he  answered  me,  “This  is  the 
god” 

' “ Show  me  the  god,”  I cried,  “ or  I will  surely 


108 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


slay  thee.”  And  I touched  his  eyes,  and  they 
became  blind. 

4 And  the  priest  besought  me,  saying,  " Let  my 
lord  heal  his  servant,  and  I will  show  him  the 
god.” 

4 So  I breathed  with  my  breath  upon  his  eyes, 
and  the  sight  came  back  to  them,  and  he 
trembled  again,  and  led  me  into  the  third 
chamber,  and  lo  ! there  was  no  idol  in  it,  nor 
image  of  any  kind,  but  only  a mirror  of  round 
metal  set  on  an  altar  of  stone. 

4 And  I said  to  the  priest,  44  Where  is  the 
god?” 

4 And  he  answered  me  : 44  There  is  no  god  but 
this  mirror  that  thou  seest,  for  this  is  the  Mirror 
of  Wisdom.  And  it  reflecteth  all  things  that 
are  in  heaven  and  on  earth,  save  only  the  face  of 
him  who  looketh  into  it.  This  it  reflecteth  not, 
so  that  he  who  looketh  into  it  may  be  wise. 
Many  other  mirrors  are  there,  but  they  are 
mirrors  of  Opinion.  This  only  is  the  Mirror  of 
Wisdom.  And  they  who  possess  this  mirror 
know  everything,  nor  is  there  anything  hidden 
from  them.  And  they  who  possess  it  not  have 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  109 


not  Wisdom.  Therefore  is  it  the  god,  and  we 
worship  it.”  And  I ooked  into  the  mirror,  and 
it  was  even  as  he  had  said  to  me. 

* And  I did  a strange  thing,  but  what  I did 
matters  not,  for  in  a valley  that  is  but  a day’s 
journey  from  this  place  have  I hidden  the  Mirror 
of  Wisdom.  Do  but  suffer  me  to  enter  into  thee 
again  and  be  thy  servant,  and  thou  shalt  be  wiser 
than  all  the  wise  men,  and  Wisdom  shall  be 
thine.  Suffer  me  to  enter  into  thee,  and  none 
will  be  as  wise  as  thou.’ 

But  the  young  Fisherman  laughed.  'Love 
is  better  than  Wisdom/  he  cried,  f and  the  little 
Mermaid  loves  me.’ 

' Nay,  but  there  is  nothing  better  than 
Wisdom/  said  the  Soul. 

c Love  is  better/  answered  the  young  Fisher- 
man, and  he  plunged  into  the  deep,  and  the 
Soul  went  weeping  away  over  the  marshes. 

And  after  the  second  year  was  over,  the  Soul 
came  down  to  the  shore  of  the  sea,  and  called 
to  the  young  Fisherman,  and  he  rose  out  of  the 
deep  and  said,  ' Why  dost  thou  call  to  me  ? ' 


no 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


And  the  Soul  answered,  c Come  nearer,  that  I 
may  speak  with  thee,  for  I have  seen  marvellous 
things/ 

So  he  came  nearer,  and  couched  in  the  shallow 
water,  and  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand  and 
listened. 

And  the  Soul  said  to  him,  ‘ When  I left  thee, 
I turned  my  face  to  the  South  and  journeyed. 
From  the  South  cometh  everything  that  is 
precious.  Six  days  I journeyed  along  the  high- 
ways that  lead  to  the  city  of  Ashter,  along  the 
dusty  red-dyed  highways  by  which  the  pilgrims 
are  wont  to  go  did  I journey,  and  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  seventh  day  I lifted  up  my  eyes,  and 
lo  ! the  city  lay  at  my  feet,  for  it  is  in  a valley. 

1 There  are  nine  gates  to  this  city,  and  in  front 
of  each  gate  stands  a bronze  horse  that  neighs 
when  the  Bedouins  come  down  from  the  moun- 
tains. The  walls  are  cased  with  copper,  and  the 
watch-towers  on  the  walls  are  roofed  with  brass. 
In  every  tower  stands  an  archer  with  a bow  in 
his  hand.  At  sunrise  he  strikes  with  an  arrow 
on  a gong,  and  at  sunset  he  blows  through  a horn 
of  horn. 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  111 


‘ When  1 sought  to  enter,  the  guards  stopped 
me  and  asked  of  me  who  I was.  I made  answer 
that  I was  a Dervish  and  on  my  way  to  the  city 
of  Mecca,  where  there  was  a green  veil  on  which 
the  Koran  was  embroidered  in  silver  letters  by 
the  hands  of  the  angels.  They  were  filled  with 
wonder,  and  entreated  me  to  pass  in. 

6 Inside  it  is  even  as  a bazaar.  Surely  thou 
shouldst  have  been  with  me.  Across  the  narrow 
streets  the  gay  lanterns  of  paper  flutter  like 
large  butterflies.  When  the  wind  blows  over 
the  roofs  they  rise  and  fall  as  painted  bubbles 
do.  In  front  of  their  booths  sit  the  merchants 
on  silken  carpets.  They  have  straight  black 
beards,  and  their  turbans  are  covered  with  golden 
sequins,  and  long  strings  of  amber  and  carved 
peach-stones  glide  through  their  cool  fingers. 
Some  of  them  sell  gelbanum  and  nard,  and 
curious  perfumes  from  the  islands  of  the  Indian 
Sea,  and  the  thick  oil  of  red  roses,  and  myrrh 
and  little  nail-shaped  cloves.  When  one  stops 
to  speak  to  them,  they  throw  pinches  of  frank- 
incense upon  a charcoal  brazier  and  make  the 
air  sweet.  I saw  a Syrian  who  held  in  his  hands 


112 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


a thin  rod  like  a reed.  Grey  threads  of  smoke 
came  from  it,  and  its  odour  as  it  burned  was  as 
the  odour  of  the  pink  almond  in  spring.  Others 
sell  silver  bracelets  embossed  all  over  with 
creamy  blue  turquoise  stones,  and  anklets  of 
brass  wire  fringed  with  little  pearls,  and  tigers* 
claws  set  in  gold,  and  the  claws  of  that  gilt  cat, 
the  leopard,  set  in  gold  also,  and  earrings  of 
pierced  emerald,  and  finger-rings  of  hollowed 
jade.  From  the  tea-houses  comes  the  sound  of 
the  guitar,  and  the  opium-smokers  with  their 
white  smiling  faces  look  out  at  the  passers-by, 
‘Of  a truth  thou  shouldst  have  been  with  me. 
The  wine-sellers  elbow  their  way  through  the 
crowd  with  great  black  skins  on  their  shoulders. 
Most  of  them  sell  the  wine  of  Schiraz,  which  is 
as  sweet  as  honey.  They  serve  it  in  little  metal 
cups  and  strew  rose  leaves  upon  it.  In  the 
market-place  stand  the  fruitsellers,  who  sell  all 
kinds  of  fruit : ripe  figs,  with  their  bruised  purple 
flesh,  melons,  smelling  of  musk  and  yellow  as 
topazes,  citrons  and  rose-apples  and  clusters  of 
white  grapes,  round  red-gold  oranges,  and  oval 
lemons  of  green  gold.  Once  I saw  an  elephant 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  113 


go  by.  Its  trunk  was  painted  with  vermilion 
and  turmeric,  and  over  its  ears  it  had  a net  of 
crimson  silk  cord.  It  stopped  opposite  one  of 
the  booths  and  began  eating  the  oranges,  and 
the  man  only  laughed.  Thou  canst  not  think 
how  strange  a people  they  are.  When  they  are 
glad  they  go  to  the  bird-sellers  and  buy  of  them 
a caged  bird,  and  set  it  free  that  their  joy  may 
be  greater,  and  when  they  are  sad  they  scourge 
themselves  with  thorns  that  their  sorrow  may 
not  grow  less. 

c One  evening  I met  some  negroes  carrying  a 
heavy  palanquin  through  the  bazaar.  It  was 
made  of  gilded  bamboo,  and  the  poles  were  of 
vermilion  lacquer  studded  with  brass  peacocks. 
Across  the  windows  hung  thin  curtains  of  muslin 
embroidered  with  beetles’  wings  and  with  tiny 
seed-pearls,  and  as  it  passed  by  a pale-faced 
Circassian  looked  out  and  smiled  at  me.  1 
followed  behind,  and  the  negroes  hurried  their 
steps  and  scowled.  But  I did  not  care.  I felt 
a great  curiosity  come  over  me. 

c At  last  they  stopped  at  a square  white  house 
There  were  n > windows  to  it,  only  a little  door 

H 


114 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


like  the  door  of  a tomb.  They  set  down  the 
palanquin  and  knocked  three  times  with  a copper 
hammer.  An  Armenian  in  a caftan  of  green 
leather  peered  through  the  wicket,  and  when  he 
saw  them  he  opened,  and  spread  a carpet  on  the 
ground,  and  the  woman  stepped  out.  As  she 
went  in,  she  turned  round  and  smiled  at  me 
again.  I had  never  seen  any  one  so  pale. 

‘ When  the  moon  rose  I returned  to  the  same 
place  and  sought  for  the  house,  but  it  was  no 
longer  there.  When  I saw  that,  I knew  who 
the  woman  was,  and  wherefore  she  had  smiled 
at  me. 

‘ Certainly  thou  shouldst  have  been  with  me. 
On  the  feast  of  the  New  Moon  the  young 
Emperor  came  forth  from  his  palace  and  went 
into  the  mosque  to  pray.  His  hair  and  beard 
were  dyed  with  rose-leaves,  and  his  cheeks 
were  powdered  with  a fine  gold  dust.  The 
palms  of  his  feet  and  hands  were  yellow  with 
saffron. 

‘ At  sunrise  he  went  forth  from  his  palace  in 
a robe  of  silver,  and  at  sunset  he  returned  to  it 
again  in  a robe  of  gold.  The  people  flung  them- 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  115 


selves  on  the  ground  and  hid  their  faces,  but  I 
would  not  do  so.  I stood  by  the  stall  of  a seller 
of  dates  and  waited.  When  the  Emperor  saw 
me,  he  raised  his  painted  eyebrows  and  stopped. 
I stood  quite  still,  and  made  him  no  obeisance. 
The  people  marvelled  at  my  boldness,  and 
counselled  me  to  flee  from  the  city.  I paid  no 
heed  to  them,  but  went  and  sat  with  the  sellers 
of  strange  gods,  who  by  reason  of  their  craft  are 
abominated.  When  I told  them  what  I had 
done,  each  of  them  gave  me  a god  and  prayed 
me  to  leave  them. 

‘ That  night,  as  I lay  on  a cushion  in  the  tea- 
house that  is  in  the  Street  of  Pomegranates,  the 
guards  of  the  Emperor  entered  and  led  me  to 
the  palace.  As  I went  in  they  closed  each  door 
behind  me,  and  put  a chain  across  it.  Inside 
was  a great  court  with  an  arcade  running  all 
round.  The  walls  were  of  white  alabaster,  set 
here  and  there  with  blue  and  green  tiles.  The 
pillars  were  of  green  marble,  and  the  pavement 
of  a kind  of  peach-blossom  marble.  I had  never 
seen  anything  like  it  before. 

e As  I passed  across  the  court  two  veiled 


116 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


women  looked  down  from  a balcony  and  cursed 
me.  The  guards  hastened  on,  and  the  butts  of 
the  lances  rang  upon  the  polished  floor.  They 
opened  a gate  of  wrought  ivory,  and  1 found 
myself  in  a watered  garden  of  seven  terraces. 
It  was  planted  with  tulip-cups  and  moonflowers, 
and  silver-studded  aloes.  Like  a slim  reed  of 
crystal  a fountain  hung  in  the  dusky  air.  The 
cypress-trees  were  like  burnt-out  torches.  From 
one  of  them  a nightingale  was  singing. 

c At  the  end  of  the  garden  stood  a little 
pavilion.  As  we  approached  it  two  eunuchs 
came  out  to  meet  us.  Their  fat  bodies  swayed 
as  they  walked,  and  they  glanced  curiously  at 
me  with  their  yellow-lidded  eyes.  One  of  them 
drew  aside  the  captain  of  the  guard,  and  in  a 
low  voice  whispered  to  him.  The  other  kept 
munching  scented  pastilles,  which  he  took  with 
an  affected  gesture  out  of  an  oval  box  of  lilac 
enamel. 

c After  a few  moments  the  captain  of  the 
guard  dismissed  the  soldiers.  They  went  back 
to  the  palace,  the  eunuchs  following  slowly 
behind  and  plucking  the  sweet  mulberries  from 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  117 


the  trees  as  they  passed.  Once  the  elder  of  the 
two  turned  round,  and  smiled  at  me  with  an 
evil  smile. 

‘Then  the  captain  of  the  guard  motioned  me 
towards  the  entrance  of  the  pavilion.  I walked 
on  without  trembling,  and  drawing  the  heavy 
curtain  aside  I entered  in. 

‘The  young  Emperor  was  stretched  on  a couch 
of  dyed  lion  skins,  and  a ger-falcon  perched  upon 
his  wrist.  Behind  him  stood  a brass-turbaned 
Nubian,  naked  down  to  the  waist,  and  with 
heavy  earrings  in  his  split  ears.  On  a table  by 
the  side  of  the  couch  lay  a mighty  scimitar  of  steel. 

‘ When  the  Emperor  saw  me  he  frowned,  and 
said  to  me,  “ What  is  thy  name  ? Knowest  thou 
not  that  I am  Emperor  of  this  city  ? ” But  I 
made  him  no  answer. 

‘He  pointed  with  his  finger  at  the  scimitar, 
and  the  Nubian  seized  it,  and  rushing  forward 
struck  at  me  with  great  violence.  The  blade 
whizzed  through  me,  and  did  me  no  hurt.  The 
man  fell  sprawling  on  the  floor,  and  when  he  rose 
up  his  teeth  chattered  with  terror  and  he  hid 
himself  behind  the  couch. 


118 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


‘The  Emperor  leapt  to  his  feet,  and  taking  a 
lance  from  a stand  of  arms,  he  threw  it  at  me. 
I caught  it  in  its  flight,  and  brake  the  shaft  into 
two  pieces.  He  shot  at  me  with  an  arrow,  but 
I held  up  my  hands  and  it  stopped  in  mid-air. 
Then  he  drew  a dagger  from  a belt  of  white 
leather,  and  stabbed  the  Nubian  in  the  throat 
lest  the  slave  should  tell  of  his  dishonour.  The 
man  writhed  like  a trampled  snake,  and  a red 
foam  bubbled  from  his  lips. 

4 As  soon  as  he  was  dead  the  Emperor  turned 
to  me,  and  when  he  had  wiped  away  the  bright 
sweat  from  his  brow  with  a little  napkin  of 
purfled  and  purple  silk,  he  said  to  me,  “ Art  thou 
a prophet,  that  I may  not  harm  thee,  or  the  son 
of  a prophet,  that  I can  do  thee  no  hurt  ? I 
pray  thee  leave  my  city  to-night,  for  while  thou 
art  in  it  I am  no  longer  its  lord.” 

€ And  I answered  him,  “ I will  go  for  half  of 
thy  treasure.  Give  me  half  of  thy  treasure,  and 
I will  go  away.” 

‘ He  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  led  me  out 
into  the  garden.  When  the  captain  of  the  guard 
saw  me,  he  wondered.  When  the  eunuchs  saw 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  119 


me,  their  knees  shook  and  they  fell  upon  the 
ground  in  fear. 

‘ There  is  a chamber  in  the  palace  that  has 
eight  walls  of  red  porphyry,  and  a brass-scaled 
ceiling  hung  with  lamps.  The  Emperor  touched 
one  of  the  walls  and  it  opened,  and  we  passed 
down  a corridor  that  was  lit  with  many  torches. 
In  niches  upon  each  side  stood  great  wine-jars 
filled  to  the  brim  with  silver  pieces.  When  we 
reached  the  centre  of  the  corridor  the  Emperor 
spake  the  word  that  may  not  be  spoken,  and  a 
granite  door  swung  back  on  a secret  spring,  and 
he  put  his  hands  before  his  face  lest  his  eyes 
should  be  dazzled. 

‘Thou  couldst  not  believe  how  marvellous  a 
place  it  was.  There  were  huge  tortoise-shells 
full  of  pearls,  and  hollowed  moonstones  of  great 
size  piled  up  with  red  rubies.  The  gold  was 
stored  in  coffers  of  elephant-hide,  and  the  gold- 
dust  in  leather  bottles.  There  were  opals  and 
sapphires,  the  former  in  cups  of  crystal,  and  the 
latter  in  cups  of  jade.  Round  green  emeralds 
were  ranged  in  order  upon  thin  plates  of  ivory, 
and  in  one  corner  were  silk  bags  filled,  some 


120 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


with  turquoise-stones,  and  others  with  beryls. 
The  ivory  horns  were  heaped  with  purple  ame- 
thysts, and  the  horns  of  brass  with  chalcedonies 
and  sards.  The  pillars,  which  were  of  cedar,  were 
hung  with  strings  of  yellow  lynx-stones.  In  the 
flat  oval  shields  there  were  carbuncles,  both 
wine-coloured  and  coloured  like  grass.  And 
yet  I have  told  thee  but  a tithe  of  what  was 
there. 

f And  when  the  Emperor  had  taken  away  his 
hands  from  before  his  face  he  said  to  me  : “ This 
is  my  house  or  treasure,  and  half  that  is  in  it  is 
thine,  even  as  I promised  to  thee.  And  I will 
give  thee  camels  and  camel  drivers,  and  they 
shall  do  thy  bidding  and  take  thy  share  of  the 
treasure  to  whatever  part  of  the  world  thou 
desirest  to  go.  And  the  thing  shall  be  done 
to-night,  for  I would  not  that  the  Sun,  who  is 
my  father,  should  see  that  there  is  in  my  city  a 
man  whom  1 cannot  slay.” 

‘ But  I answered  him,  “ The  gold  that  is  here 
is  thine,  and  the  silver  also  is  thine,  and  thine 
are  the  precious  jewels  and  the  things  of  price. 
As  for  me,  I have  no  need  of  these.  Nor  shall  I 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  121 


take  aught  from  thee  but  that  little  ring  that 
thou  wearest  on  the  finger  of  thy  hand.” 

‘And  the  Emperor  frowned.  “ It  is  but  a 
ring  of  lead,”  he  cried,  “nor  has  it  any  value. 
Therefore  take  thy  half  of  the  treasure  and  go 
from  my  city.” 

‘ “ Nay/’  I answered,  “ but  I will  take  nought 
but  that  leaden  ring,  for  I know  what  is  written 
within  it,  and  for  what  purpose.” 

'And  the  Emperor  trembled,  and  besought  me 
and  said,  “Take  all  the  treasure  and  go  from 
my  city.  The  half  that  is  mine  shall  be  thine 
also.” 

‘ And  I did  a strange  thing,  but  what  I did 
matters  not,  for  in  a cave  that  is  but  a day’s 
journey  from  this  place  have  I hidden  the  Ring 
of  Riches.  It  is  but  a day’s  journey  from  this 
place,  and  it  waits  for  thy  coming.  He  who 
has  this  Ring  is  richer  than  all  the  kings  of  the 
world.  Come  therefore  and  take  it,  and  the 
world’s  riches  shall  be  thine.’ 

But  the  young  Fisherman  laughed.  1 Love 
is  better  than  Riches,’  he  cried,  ‘and  the  little 
Mermaid  loves  me.’ 


122 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


' Nay,  but  there  is  nothing  better  than  Riches/ 
said  the  Soul. 

‘Love  is  better/  answered  the  young  Fisher- 
man, and  he  plunged  into  the  deep, and  the  Soul 
went  weeping  away  over  the  marshes. 

And  after  the  third  year  was  over,  the  Soul 
came  down  to  the  shore  of  the  sea,  and  called 
to  the  young  Fisherman,  and  he  rose  out  of  the 
deep  and  said,  ‘ Why  dost  thou  call  to  me  ?’ 

And  the  Soul  answered,  ‘ Come  nearer,  that  I 
may  speak  with  thee,  for  I have  seen  marvellous 
things/ 

So  he  came  nearer,  and  couched  in  the  shallot 
water,  and  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand  and 
listened. 

And  the  Soul  said  to  him,  ‘In  a city  that  I 
know  of  there  is  an  inn  that  standeth  by  a river. 
I sat  there  with  sailors  who  drank  of  two 
different-coloured  wines,  and  ate  bread  made  of 
barley,  and  little  salt  fish  served  in  bay  leaves 
with  vinegar.  And  as  we  sat  and  made  merry, 
there  entered  to  us  an  old  man  bearing  a 
leathern  carpet  and  a lute  that  had  two  horns 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  123 


of  amber.  And  when  he  had  laid  out  the  carpet 
on  the  floor,  he  struck  with  a quill  on  the  wire 
strings  of  his  lute,  and  a girl  whose  face  was 
veiled  ran  in  and  began  to  dance  before  us. 
Her  face  was  veiled  with  a veil  of  gauze,  but 
her  feet  were  naked.  Naked  .were  her  feet, 
and  they  moved  over  the  carpet  like  little 
white  pigeons.  Never  have  I seen  anything 
so  marvellous,  and  the  city  in  which  she  dances 
is  but  a day’s  journey  from  this  place.’ 

Now  when  the  young  Fisherman  heard  the 
words  of  his  Soul,  he  remembered  that  the  little 
Mermaid  had  no  feet  and  could  not  dance.  And 
a great  desire  came  over  him,  and  he  said  to 
himself,  f It  is  but  a day’s  journey,  and  I can 
return  to  my  love,’  and  he  laughed,  and  stood  up  in 
the  shallow  water,  and  strode  towards  the  shore. 

And  when  he  had  reached  the  dry  shore  he 
laughed  again,  and  held  out  his  arms  to  In's  Soul. 
And  his  Soul  gave  a great  cry  of  joy  and  ran  to 
meet  him,  and  entered  into  him,  and  the  young 
Fisherman  saw  stretched  before  him  upon  the 
sand  that  shadow  of  the  body  that  is  the  body 
of  the  SouL 


124 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


And  his  Soul  said  to  him,  f Let  us  not  tarry, 
but  get  hence  at  once,  for  the  Sea-gods  are 
jealous,  and  have  monsters  that  do  their  bidding/ 

So  they  made  haste,  and  all  that  night  they 
journeyed  beneath  the  moon,  and  all  the  next 
day  they  journeyed  beneath  the  sun,  and  on  the 
evening  of  the  day  they  came  to  a city. 

And  the  young  Fisherman  said  to  his  Soul, 
* Is  this  the  city  in  which  she  dances  of  whom 
thou  didst  speak  to  me  ?' 

And  his  Soul  answered  him,  c It  is  not  this 
city,  but  another.  Nevertheless  let  us  enter  in/ 

So  they  entered  in  and  passed  through  the 
streets,  and  as  they  passed  through  the  Street 
of  the  Jewellers  the  young  Fisherman  saw  a 
fair  silver  cup  set  forth  in  a booth.  And  his 
Soul  said  to  him,  * Take  that  silver  cup  and 
hid'*  it/ 

So  he  took  the  cup  and  hid  it  in  the  fold  of 
his  tunic,  and  they  went  hurriedly  out  of  the 
city. 

And  after  that  they  had  gone  a league  from 
the  city,  the  young  Fisherman  frowned,  and 


THE  FISHERMAN  AN1)  HIS  SOUL  125 


flung  the  cup  away,  and  said  to  his  Soul,  ‘ Why 
didst  thou  tell  me  to  take  this  cup  and  hide  it, 
for  it  was  an  evil  thing  to  do  ? ' 

But  his  Soul  answered  him,  ‘ Be  at  peace,  be 
at  peace/ 

And  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day  they 
came  to  a city,  and  the  young  Fisherman  said 
to  his  Soul,  ‘ Is  this  the  city  in  which  she  dances 
of  whom  thou  didst  speak  to  me  ? ' 

And  his  Soul  answered  him,  * It  is  not  this 
city,  but  another.  Nevertheless  let  us  enter  in/ 
So  they  entered  in  and  passed  through  the 
streets,  and  as  they  passed  through  the  Street 
of  the  Sellers  of  Sandals*,  the  young  Fisherman 
saw  a child  standing  by  a jar  of  water.  And 
his  Soul  said  to  him,  f Smite  that  child/  So  he 
smote  the  child  till  it  wept,  and  when  he  had 
done  this  they  went  hurriedly  out  of  the  city. 

And  after  that  they  had  gone  a league  from 
the  city  the  young  Fisherman  grew  wroth,  and 
said  to  his  Soul, ‘ Why  didst  thou  tell  me  to  smite 
the  child,  for  it  was  an  evil  thing  to  do  ? * 

But  his  Soul  answered  him,  c Be  at  peace,  be 
at  peace/ 


126 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


And  on  the  evening  of  the  third  day  they 
came  to  a city,  and  the  young  Fisherman  said 
to  his  Soul,  Is  this  the  city  in  which  she  dances 
of  whom  thou  didst  speak  to  me  ? * 

And  his  Soul  answered  him,  f It  may  be  that 
it  is  in  this  city,  therefore  let  us  enter  in/ 

So  they  entered  in  and  passed  through  the 
streets,  but  nowhere  could  the  young  Fisherman 
find  the  river  or  the  inn  that  stood  by  its  side. 
And  the  people  of  the  city  looked  curiously  at 
him,  and  he  grew  afraid  and  said  to  his  Soul, 
* Let  us  go  hence,  for  she  who  dances  with  white 
feet  is  not  here/ 

But  his  Soul  answered,  f Nay,  but  let  us  tarry, 
for  the  night  is  dark  and  there  will  be  robbers 
on  the  way/ 

So  he  sat  him  down  in  the  market-place  and 
rested,  and  after  a time  there  went  by  a hooded 
merchant  who  had  a cloak  of  cloth  of  Tartary, 
and  bare  a lantern  of  pierced  horn  at  the  end 
of  a jointed  reed.  And  the  merchant  said  to 
him,  ‘ Why  dost  thou  sit  in  the  market-place, 
seeing  that  the  booths  are  closed  and  the  bales 
corded  ? * 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  127 


And  the  young  Fisherman  answered  him,  ‘ I 
can  find  no  inn  in  this  city,  nor  have  I any 
kinsman  who  might  give  me  shelter/ 

‘ Are  we  not  all  kinsmen  ? * said  the  merchant. 
'And  did  not  one  God  make  us?  Therefore 
come  with  me,  for  I have  a guest-chamber/ 

So  the  young  Fisherman  rose  up  and  followed 
the  merchant  to  his  house.  And  when  he  had 
passed  through  a garden  of  pomegranates  and 
entered  into  the  house,  the  merchant  brought 
him  rose-water  in  a copper  dish  that  he  might 
wash  his  hands,  and  ripe  melons  that  he  might 
quench  his  thirst,  and  set  a bowl  of  rice  and  a 
piece  of  roasted  kid  before  him. 

And  after  that  he  had  finished,  the  merchant 
led  him  to  the  guest-chamber,  and  bade  him 
sleep  and  be  at  rest.  And  the  young  Fisherman 
gave  him  thanks,  and  kissed  the  ring  that  was 
on  his  hand,  and  flung  himself  down  on  the 
carpets  of  dyed  goat’s-hair.  And  when  he  had 
covered  himself  with  a covering  of  black  lamb’s- 
wool  he  fell  asleep. 

And  three  hours  before  dawn,  and  while  it 
was  still  night,  his  Soul  waked  him  and  said 


128 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


to  him,  c Rise  up  and  go  to  the  room  of  the 
merchant,  even  to  the  room  in  which  he  sleepeth, 
and  slay  him,  and  take  from  him  his  gold,  for  we 
have  need  of  it/ 

And  the  young  Fisherman  rose  up  and  crept 
towards  the  room  of  the  merchant,  and  over 
the  feet  of  the  merchant  there  was  lying  a 
curved  sword,  and  the  tray  by  the  side  of  the 
merchant  held  nine  purses  of  gold.  And  he 
reached  out  his  hand  and  touched  the  sword, 
and  when  he  touched  it  the  merchant  started 
and  awoke,  and  leaping  up  seized  himself  the 
sword  and  cried  to  the  young  Fisherman,  f Dost 
thou  return  evil  for  good,  and  pay  with  the 
shedding  of  blood  for  the  kindness  that  I have 
shown  thee  ? ’ 

And  his  Soul  said  to  the  young  Fisherman, 
f Strike  him,  and  he  struck  him  so  that  he 
swooned,  and  he  seized  then  the  nine  purses  of 
gold,  and  fled  hastily  through  the  garden  of 
pomegranates,  and  set  his  face  to  the  star  that 
is  the  star  of  morning. 

And  when  they  had  gone  a league  from  the 
city,  the:  young  Fisherman  beat  his  breast,  and 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  129 


said  to  his  Soul,  ' Why  didst  thou  bid  me  slay 
the  merchant  and  take  his  gold  ? Surely  thou 
art  evil/ 

But  his  Soul  answered  him,  ' Be  at  peace,  be 
at  peace/ 

' Nay/  cried  the  young  Fisherman,  ‘ I may 
not  be  at  peace,  for  all  that  thou  hast  made  me 
to  do  I hate.  Thee  also  I hate,  and  I bid  thee 
tell  me  wherefore  thou  hast  wrought  with  me 
in  this  wise. 

And  his  Soul  answered  him,  'When  thou 
didst  send  me  forth  into  the  world  thou  gavest 
me  no  heart,  so  I learned  to  do  all  these  things 
and  love  them/ 

'What  sayest  thou?’  murmured  the  young 
Fisherman. 

' Thou  knowest/  answered  his  Soul,  ' thou 
knowest  it  well.  Hast  thou  forgotten  that  thou 
gavest  me  no  heart  ? I trow  not.  And  so  trouble 
not  thyself  nor  me,  but  be  at  peace,  for  there  is 
no  pain  that  thou  shalt  not  give  away,  nor  any 
pleasure  that  thou  shalt  not  receive/ 

And  when  the  young  Fisherman  heard  these 
words  he  trembled  and  said  to  his  Soul,  ' Nay, 


i 


130 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


but  thou  art  evil,  and  hast  made  me  forget  my 
love,  and  hast  tempted  me  with  temptations, 
and  hast  set  my  feet  in  the  ways  of  sin/ 

And  his  Soul  answered  him,  ‘ Thou  hast  not 
forgotten  that  when  thou  didst  send  me  forth 
into  the  world  thou  gavest  me  n heart.  Come, 
let  us  go  to  another  city,  and  make  merry,  for 
we  have  nine  purses  of  gold/ 

But  the  young  Fisherman  took  the  nine  purses 
of  Id,  and  flung  them  down,  and  trampled  on 
them. 

'Nay/  he  cried,  'but  I will  have  nought  to 
do  with  thee,  nor  will  I journey  with  thee  any- 
where, but  even  as  I sent  thee  away  before,  so 
will  I send  thee  away  now,  for  thou  hast  wrought 
me  no  good.  And  he  turned  his  back  to  the 
moon,  and  with  the  little  knife  that  had  the 
handle  of  green  viper’s  skin  he  strove  to  cut 
from  his  feet  that  shadow  of  the  body  which  is 
the  body  of  the  Soul. 

Yet  his  Soul  stirred  not  from  him,  nor  paid 
heed  to  his  command,  but  said  to  him,  ‘ The 
spell  that  tlm  Witch  told  thee  avails  thee  no 
more,  for  I may  not  leave  thee,  nor  mayest  thou 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  131 


drive  me  forth.  Once  in  his  life  may  a man 
send  his  Soul  away,  but  he  who  receiveth  back 
his  Soul  must  keep  it  with  him  for  ever,  and  this 
is  his  punishment  and  his  reward/ 

And  the  young  Fisherman  grew  pale  and 
clenched  his  hands  and  cried,  6 She  wras  a false 
Witch  in  that  she  told  me  not  that/ 

£ Nav/  answered  his  Soul,  f but  she  was  true 
to  Him  she  worships,  and  whose  servant  she 
will  be  ever/ 

And  when  the  young  Fisherman  knew  that 
he  could  no  longer  get  rid  of  his  Soul,  and 
that  it  was  an  evil  Soul  and  would  abide  with 
him  always,  he  fell  upon  the  ground  weeping 
bitterly. 

And  when  it  was  day  the  young  Fisherman 
rose  up  and  said  to  his  Soul,  f I will  bind  my 
hands  that  I may  not  do  thy  bidding,  and  close 
my  lips  that  I may  not  speak  thy  words,  and  I 
will  return  to  the  place  where  she  whom  I 
love  has  her  dwelling.  Even  to  the  sea  will  I 
return,  and  to  the  little  bay  where  she  is  wont 
to  sing,  and  I will  call  to  her  and  tell  her  the 


132 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


evil  I have  done  and  the  evil  thou  hast  wrought 
on  me/ 

And  his  Soul  tempted  him  and  said,  ‘ Who 
is  thy  love,  that  thou  shouldst  return  to  her? 
The  world  has  many  fairer  than  she  is.  There 
are  the  dancing-girls  of  Samaris  who  dance  in 
the  manner  of  all  kinds  of  birds  and  beasts. 
Their  feet  are  painted  with  henna,  and  in  their 
hands  they  have  little  copper  bells.  They  laugh 
while  they  dance,  and  their  laughter  is  as  clear 
as  the  laughter  of  water.  Come  with  me  and 
I will  show  them  to  thee.  For  what  is  this 
trouble  of  thine  about  the  things  of  sin  ? Is 
that  which  is  pleasant  to  eat  not  made  for  the 
eater?  Is  there  poison  in  that  which  is  sweet 
to  drink  ? Trouble  not  thyself,  but  come  with 
me  to  another  city.  There  is  a little  city  hard 
by  in  which  there  is  a garden  of  tulip-trees. 
And  there  dwell  in  this  comely  garden  white 
peacocks  and  peacocks  that  have  blue  breasts. 
Their  tails  when  they  spread  them  to  the  sun 
are  like  disks  of  ivory  and  like  gilt  disks.  And 
she  who  feeds  them  dances  for  their  pleasure, 
and  sometimes  she  dances  on  her  hands  and  at 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  133 


other  times  she  dances  with  her  feet.  Her  eyes 
are  coloured  with  stibium,  and  her  nostrils  are 
shaped  like  the  wings  of  a swallow.  From  a hook 
in  one  of  her  nostrils  hangs  a flower  that  is  carved 
out  of  a pearl.  She  laughs  while  she  dances, 
and  the  silver  rings  that  are  about  her  ankles 
tinkle  like  bells  of  silver.  And  so  trouble  not 
thyself  any  more,  but  come  with  me  to  this  city.’ 

But  the  young  Fisherman  answered  not  his 
Soul,  but  closed  his  lips  with  the  seal  of  silence 
and  with  a tight  cord  bound  his  hands,  and 
journeyed  back  to  the  place  from  which  he  had 

come,  even  to  the  little  bay  where  his  love  had 

\ 

been  wont  to  sing.  And  ever  did  his  Soul  tempt 
him  by  the  way,  but  he  made  it  no  answer,  nor 
would  he  do  any  of  the  wickedness  that  it  sought 
to  make  him  to  do,  so  great  was  the  power  of  the 
love  that  was  within  him. 

And  when  he  had  reached  the  shore  of  the 
sea,  he  loosed  the  cord  from  his  hands,  and  took 
the  seal  of  silence  from  his  lips,  and  called  to 
the  little  Mermaid.  But  she  came  not  to  his 
call,  though  he  called  to  her  all  day  long  and 
besought  her. 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


134 

And  his  Soul  mocked  him  and  said,  f Surely 
thou  hast  but  little  joy  out  of  thy  love.  Thou 
art  as  one  who  in  time  of  death  pours  water 
into  a broken  vessel.  Thou  givest  away  what 
thou  hast,  and  nought  is  given  to  thee  in  return. 
It  were  better  for  thee  to  come  with  me,  for 
I know  where  the  Valley  of  Pleasure  lies,  and 
what  things  are  wrought  there.’ 

But  the  young  Fisherman  answered  not  his 
Soul,  but  in  a cleft  of  the  rock  he  built  himself 
a house  of  wattles,  and  abode  there  for  the  space 
of  a year.  And  every  morning  he  called  to  the 
Mermaid,  and  every  noon  he  called  to  her  again, 
and  at  night-time  he  spake  her  name.  Yet 
never  did  she  rise  out  of  the  sea  to  meet  him, 
nor  in  any  place  of  the  sea  could  he  find  her 
though  he  sought  for  her  in  the  caves  and  in  the 
green  water,  in  the  pools  of  the  tide  and  in  the 
wells  that  are  at  the  bottom  of  the  deep. 

And  ever  did  his  Soul  tempt  him  with  evil, 
and  whisper  of  terrible  things.  Yet  did  it  not 
prevail  against  him,  so  great  was  the  power  of 
his  love. 

And  after  the  year  was  over,  the  Soul  thought 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  135 


within  himself,  f I have  tempted  my  master  with 
evil,  and  his  love  is  stronger  than  I am.  I will 
tempt  him  now  with  good,  and  it  may  be  that 
he  will  come  with  me/ 

So  he  spake  to  the  young  Fisherman  and  said, 
‘I  have  told  thee  of  the  joy  of  the  world,  and 
thou  hast  turned  a deaf  ear  to  me.  Suffer  me 
now  to  tell  thee  of  the  world’s  pain,  and  it  may 
be  that  thou  wilt  hearken.  For  of  a truth  pain 
is  the  Ln*d  of  this  world,  nor  is  there  any  one 
who  escapes  from  its  net.  There  be  some  who 
lack  raiment,  and  others  who  lack  bread.  There 
be  widows  who  sit  in  purple,  and  widows  who 
sit  in  rags.'  To  and  fro  over  the  fens  go  the 
lepers,  and  they  are  cruel  to  each  other.  The 
beggars  go  up  and  down  on  the  highways,  and 
their  wallets  are  empty.  Through  the  streets 
of  the  cities  walks  Famine,  and  the  Plague  sits 
at  their  gates.  Come,  let  us  go  forth  and  mend 
these  things,  and  make  them  not  to  be.  Where- 
fore shouldst  thou  tarry  here  calling  to  thy  love, 
seeing  she  comes  not  to  thy  call  ? And  what 
is  love,  that  thou  shouldst  set  this  high  store 
upon  it  ? * 


136 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


But  the  young  Fisherman  answered  it  nought, 
so  great  was  the  power  of  his  love.  And  every 
morning  he  called  to  the  Mermaid,  and  every 
noon  he  called  to  her  again,  and  at  night-time 
he  spake  her  name.  Yet  never  did  she  rise  out 
of  the  sea  to  meet  him,  nor  in  any  place  of  the 
sea  could  he  find  her,  though  he  sought  for  her 
in  the  rivers  of  the  sea,  and  in  the  valleys  that 
are  under  the  waves,  in  the  sea  that  the  night 
makes  purple,  and  in  the  sea  that  the  dawn 
leaves  grey. 

And  after  the  second  year  was  over,  the  Soul 
said  to  the  young  Fisherman  at  night-time,  and 
as  he  sat  in  the  wattled  house  alone,  ‘ Lo ! 
now  I have  tempted  thee  with  evil,  and  I have 
tempted  thee  with  good,  and  thy  love  is  stronger 
than  I am.  Wherefore  will  I tempt  thee  no 
longer,  but  I pray  thee  to  suffer  me  to  enter 
thy  heart,  that  I may  be  one  with  thee  even 
as  before.’ 

‘ Surely  thou  mayest  enter/  said  the  young 
Fisherman,  f for  in  the  days  when  with  no  heart 
thou  didst  go  through  the  world  thou  must  have 
much  suffered/ 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  137 


‘ Alas ! * cried  his  Soul,  ' I can  find  no  place  of 
entrance,  so  compassed  about  with  love  is  this 
heart  6f  thine/ 

* Yet  I would  that  I could  help  thee/  said  the 
young  Fisherman. 

And  as  he  spake  there  came  a great  cry  of 
mourning  from  the  sea,  even  the  cry  that  men 
hear  when  one  of  the  Sea-folk  is  dead.  And 
the  young  Fisherman  leapt  up,  and  left  his 
wattled  house,  and  ran  down  to  the  shore.  And 
the  black  waves  came  hurrying  to  the  shore, 
bearing  with  them  a burden  that  was  whiter 
than  silver.  White  as  the  surf  it  was,  and  like 
a flower  if  tossed  on  the  waves.  And  the  surf 
took  it  from  the  waves,  and  the  foam  took  it 
from  the  surf,  and  the  shore  received  it,  and 
lying  at  his  feet  the  young  Fisherman  saw  the 
body  of  the  little  Mermaid.  Dead  at  his  feet  it 
was  lying. 

Weeping  as  one  smitten  with  pain  he  flung 
himself  down  beside  it,  and  he  kissed  the  cold 
red  of  the  mouth,  and  toyed  with  the  wet  amber 
of  the  hair.  He  flung  himself  down  beside  it 
on  the  sand,  weeping  as  one  trembling  with  joy, 


138 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


and  in  his  brown  arms  he  held  it  to  his  breast. 
Cold  were  the  lips,  yet  he  kissed  them.  Salt 
was  the  honey  of  the  hair,  yet  he  tasted  it  with 
a bitter  joy.  He  kissed  the  closed  eyelids,  and 
the  wild  spray  that  lay  upon  their  cups  was  less 
salt  than  his  tears. 

And  to  the  dead  thing  he  made  confession. 
Into  the  shells  of  its  ears  he  poured  the  harsh 
wine  of  his  tale.  He  put  the  little  hands  round 
his  neck,  and  with  his  fingers  he  touched  the 
thin  reed  of  the  throat.  Bitter,  bitter  was  his 
joy,  and  full  of  strange  gladness  was  his 
pain. 

The  black  sea  came  nearer,  and  the  white  foam 
moaned  like  a leper.  With  white  claws  of  foam 
the  sea  grabbled  at  the  shore.  From  the  palace 
of  the  Sea-King  came  the  cry  of  mourning  again, 
and  far  out  upon  the  sea  the  great  Tritons  blew 
hoarsely  upon  their  horns. 

‘ Flee  away/  said  his  Soul,  ‘ for  ever  doth  the 
sea  come  Higher,  and  if  thou  tarriest  it  will  slay 
thee.  Flee  away,  for  I am  afraid,  seeing  that 
thy  heart  is  closed  against  me  by  reason  of  the 
greatness  of  thy  love.  Flee  away  to  a place  of 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  139 


safety.  Surely  thou  wilt  not  send  me  without 
a heart  into  another  world  r ' 

But  the  young  Fisherman  listened  not  to  his 
Soul,  but  called  on  the  little  Mermaid  and  said, 
'Love  is  better  than  wisdom,  and  more  precious 
than  riches,  and  fairer  than  the  feet  of  the 
daughters  of  men.  The  fires  cannot  destroy  it, 
nor  can  the  waters  quench  it.  I called  on  thee 
at  dawn,  and  thou  didst  not  come  to  my  call. 
The  moon  heard  thy  name,  yet  hadst  thou  no 
heed  of  me.  For  evilly  had  I left  thee,  and  to 
my  own  hurt  had  I wandered  away.  Yet  ever 
did  thy  love  abide  with  me,  and  ever  was  it 
strong,  nor  did  aught  prevail  against  it,  though 
I have  looked  upon  evil  and  looked  upon  good. 
And  now  that  thou  art  dead,  surely  I will  die 
with  thee  also/ 

And  his  Soul  besought  him  to  depart,  but  he 
would  not,  so  great  was  his  love.  And  the  sea 
came  nearer,  and  sought  to  cover  him  with  its 
waves,  and  when  he  knew  that  the  end  was  at 
hand  he  kissed  with  mad  lips  the  cold  lips  of 
the  Mermaid,  and  the  heart  that  was  within 
him  brake.  And  as  through  the  fulness  of  his 


140 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


love  his  heart  did  breaks  the  Soul  found  an 
entrance  and  entered  in,  and  was  one  with  him 
even  as  before.  And  the  sea  covered  the  young 
Fisherman  with  its  waves. 

And  in  the  morning  the  Priest  went  forth  to 
bless  the  sea,  for  it  had  been  troubled.  And 
with  him  went  the  monks  and  the  musicians, 
and  the  candle-bearers,  and  the  swingers  of 
censers,  and  a great  company. 

And  when  the  Priest  reached  the  shore  he 
saw  the  young  Fisherman  lying  drowned  in  the 
surf,  and  clasped  in  his  arms  was  the  body  of 
the  little  Mermaid.  And  he  drew  back  frown- 
ing, and  having  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  he 
cried  aloud  and  said,  f I will  not  bless  the  sea 
nor  anything  that  is  in  it.  Accursed  be  the  Sea- 
folk,  and  accursed  be  all  they  who  traffic  with 
them.  And  as  for  him  who  for  love’s  sake 
forsook  God,  and  so  lieth  here  with  his  leman 
slain  by  God’s  judgment,  take  up  his  body  and 
the  body  of  his  leman,  and  bury  them  in  the 
corner  of  the  Field  of  the  Fullers,  and  set  nc 
mark  above  them,  nor  sign  of  any  kind,  that 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  141 


none  may  know  the  place  of  their  resting.  For 
accursed  were  they  in  their  lives,  and  accursed 
shall  they  be  in  their  deaths  also/ 

And  the  people  did  as  he  commanded  them, 
and  in  the  corner  of  the  Field  of  the  Fullers, 
where  no  sweet  herbs  grew,  they  dug  a deep  pit, 
and  laid  the  dead  things  within  it. 

And  when  the  third  year  was  over,  and  on  a 
day  that  was  a holy  day,  the  Priest  went  up  to 
the  chapel,  that  he  might  show  to  the  people 
the  wounds  of  the  Lord,  and  speak  to  them 
about  the  wrath  of  God. 

And  when  he  had  robed  himself  with  his  robes, 
and  entered  in  and  bowed  himself  before  the 
altar,  he  saw  that  the  altar  was  covered  with 
strange  flowers  that  never  had  been  seen  before. 
Strange  were  they  to  look  at,  and  of  curious 
beauty,  and  their  beauty  troubled  him,  and  their 
odour  was  sweet  in  his  nostrils.  And  he  felt 
glad,  and  understood  not  why  he  was  glad. 

And  after  that  he  had  opened  the  tabernacle, 
and  incensed  the  monstrance  that  was  in  it,  and 
shown  the  fair  wafer  to  the  people,  and  hid  it 
again  behind  the  veil  of  veils,  he  began  to  speak 


142 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


to  the  people,  desiring  to  speak  to  them  of  the 
wrath  of  God.  But  the  beauty  of  the  white 
flowers  troubled  him,  and  their  odour  was  sweet 
in  his  nostrils,  and  there  came  another  word  into 
his  lips,  and  he  spake  not  of  the  wrath  of  God, 
but  of  the  God  whose  name  is  Love.  And  why 
he  so  spake,  he  knew  not. 

And  when  he  had  finished  his  word  the 
people  wept,  and  the  Priest  went  back  to  the 
sacristy,  and  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  And 
the  deacons  came  in  and  began  to  unrobe  him, 
and  took  from  him  the  alb  and  the  girdle,  the 
maniple  and  the  stole.  And  he  stood  as  one  in 
a dream. 

And  after  that  they  had  unrobed  him,  he 
looked  at  them  and  said,  ‘ What  are  the  flowers 
that  stand  on  the  altar,  and  whence  do  they 
come  ? 9 

And  they  answered  him,  ‘What  flowers  they 
are  we  cannot  tell,  but  they  come  from  the 
corner  of  the  Fullers*  Field.  And  the  Priest 
trembled,  and  returned  to  his  own  house  and 
prayed. 

And  in  the  morning,  while  it  was  still  dawn, 


THE  FISHERMAN  AND  HIS  SOUL  143 


he  went  forth  with  the  monks  and  the  musicians, 
and  the  candle-bearers  and  the  swingers  of 
censers,  and  a great  company,  and  came  to  the 
shore  of  the  sea,  and  blessed  the  sea,  and  all  the 
wild  things  that  are  in  it.  The  Fauns  also  he 
blessed,  and  the  little  things  that  dance  in  the 
woodland,  and  the  bright-eyed  things  that  peer 
through  the  leaves.  All  the  things  in  God's 
world  he  blessed,  and  the  people  were  filled  with 
joy  and  wonder.  Yet  never  again  in  the  corner 
of  the  Fullers'  Field  grew  flowers  of  any  kind, 
but  the  field  remained  barren  even  as  before. 
Nor  came  the  Sea-folk  into  the  bay  as  they  had 
been  wont  to  do,  for  they  went  to  another  part 
of  the  sea. 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


TO 

MISS  MARGOT  TENNANT 

[liRS.  ASQUITH] 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


JCE  upon  a time  two  poor  Woodcutters 


were  making  their  way  home  through  a 
great  pine-forest.  It  was  winter,  and  a night 
of  bitter  cold.  The  snow  lay  thick  upon  the 
ground,  and  upon  the  branches  of  the  trees : the 
frost  kept  snapping  the  little  twigs  on  either 
side  of  them,  as  they  passed  : and  when  they 
came  to  the  Mountain-Torrent  she  was  hanging 
motionless  in  air,  for  the  Ice- King  had  kissed  her. 

So  cold  was  it  that  even  the  animals  and  the 
birds  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it. 

‘Ugh!’  snarled  the  Wolf,  as  he  limped 
through  the  brushwood  with  his  tail  between 
his  legs,  * this  is  perfectly  monstrous  weather. 
Why  doesn’t  the  Government  look  to  it?’ 

f Weet ! weet ! weet ! ’ twittered  the  green 
Linnets,  fthe  old  Earth  is  dead,  and  they  have 
laid  her  ut  in  her  white  shroud.’ 

' The  Earth  is  going  to  be  married,  and  this 
is  her  bridal  dress/  whispered  the  Turtle-doves 


147 


148 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


to  each  other.  Their  little  pink  feet  were  quite 
frost-bitten,  but  they  felt  that  it  was  their  duty 
to  take  a romantic  view  of  the  situation. 

‘ Nonsense!’  growled  the  Wolf.  ‘I  tell  you 
that  it  is  all  the  fault  of  the  Government,  and 
if  you  don’t  believe  me  I shall  eat  you/  The 
Wolf  had  a thoroughly  practical  mind,  and  was 
never  at  a loss  for  a good  argument. 

‘ Well,  for  my  own  part,’  said  the  Woodpecker, 
who  was  a born  philosopher,  ‘ I don’t  care  an 
atomic  theory  for  explanations.  If  a thing  is  so, 
it  is  so,  and  at  present  it  is  terribly  cold.’ 

Terribly  cold  it  certainly  was.  The  little 
Squirrels,  who  lived  inside  the  tall  fir-tree,  kept 
rubbing  each  other’s  noses  to  keep  themselves 
warm,  and  the  Rabbits  curled  themselves  up  in 
their  holes,  and  did  not  venture  even  to  look 
out  of  doors.  The  only  people  who  seemed  to 
enjoy  it  were  the  great  horned  Owls.  Their 
feathers  were  quite  stiff  with  rime,  but  they  did 
not  mind,  and  they  rolled  their  large  yellow 
eyes,  and  called  out  to  each  other  across  the 
forest,  ‘ Tu-whit!  Tu-whoo!  Tu-whit!  Tu- 
'■vhoo  ! what  delightful  weather  we  are  having  !' 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


149 


On  and  on  went  the  two  Woodcutters,  blow 
ing  lustily  upon  their  fingers,  and  stamping  with 
their  huge  iron-shod  boots  upon  the  caked  snow. 
Once  they  sank  into  a deep  drift,  and  came  out 
as  white  as  millers  are,  when  the  stones  are 
grinding;  and  once  they  slipped  on  the  hard 
smooth  ice  where  the  marsh-water  was  frozen, 
and  their  faggots  fell  out  of  their  bundles,  and 
they  had  to  pick  them  up  and  bind  them 
together  again ; and  once  they  thought  that 
they  had  lost  their  way,  and  a great  terror  seized 
on  them,  for  they  knew  that  the  Snow  is  cruel 
to  those  who  sleep  in  her  arms.  But  they  put 
their  trust  in  the  good  Saint  Martin,  who 
watches  over  all  travellers,  and  retraced  their 
steps,  and  went  warily,  and  at  last  they  reached 
the  outskirts  of  the  forest,  and  saw,  far  down  in 
the  valley  beneath  them,  the  lights  of  the  village 
in  which  they  dwelt. 

So  overjoyed  were  they  at  their  deliverance 
that  they  laughed  aloud,  and  the  Earth  seemed 
to  them  like  a flower  of  silver,  and  the  Moon 
like  a flower  of  gold. 

Yet,  after  that  they  had  laughed  they  became 


150 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


sad,  for  they  remembered  their  poverty,  and  one 
of  them  said  to  the  other,  ‘ Why  did  we  make 
merry,  seeing  that  life  is  for  the  rich,  and  not 
for  such  as  we  are  ? Better  that  we  had  died 
of  cold  in  the  forest,  or  that  some  wild  beast 
had  fallen  upon  us  and  slain  us/ 

‘Truly/  answered  his  companion,  ‘much  is 
given  to  some,  and  little  is  given  to  others. 
Injustice  has  parcelled  out  the  world,  nor  is 
there  equal  division  of  aught  save  of  sorrow/ 

But  as  they  were  bewailing  their  misery  to 
each  other  this  strange  thing  happened.  There 
fell  from  heaven  a very  bright  and  beautiful 
star.  It  slipped  down  the  side  of  the  sky,  pass- 
ing by  the  other  stars  in  its  course,  and,  as  they 
watched  it  wondering,  it  seemed  to  them  to  sink 
behind  a clump  of  willow-trees  that  stood  hard 
by  a little  sheepfold  no  more  than  a stone’s- 
throw  away. 

‘ Why  ! there  is  a crook  of  gold  for  whoever 
finds  it/*  they  cried,  and  they  set  to  and  ran,  so 
eager  were  they  for  the  gold. 

And  one  of  them  ran  faster  than  his  mate, 
and  outstripped  him,  and  forced  his  way  through 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


151 


the  willows,  and  came  out  on  the  other  side,  and 
lo  ! there  was  indeed  a thing  of  gold  lying  on 
the  white  snow.  So  he  hastened  towards  it,  and 
stooping  down  placed  his  hands  upon  it,  and  it 
was  a cloak  of  golden  tissue,  curiously  wrought 
with  stars,  and  wrapped  in  many  folds.  And  he 
cried  out  to  his  comrade  that  he  had  found  the 
treasure  that  had  fallen  from  the  sky,  and  when 
his  comrade  had  come  up,  they  sat  them  down 
in  the  snow,  and  loosened  the  folds  of  the  cloak 
that  they  might  divide  the  pieces  of  gold.  But, 
alas!  no  gold  was  in  it,  nor  silver,  nor,  indeed, 
treasure  of  any  kind,  but  only  a little  child  who 
was  asleep. 

And  one  of  them  said  to  the  other:  ' This  is 
a bitter  ending  to  our  hope,  nor  have  we  any 
good  fortune,  for  what  doth  a child  profit  to  a 
man  ? Let  us  leave  it  here,  and  go  our  way, 
seeing  that  we  are  poor  men,  and  have  children 
of  our  own  whose  bread  we  may  not  give  to 
another.’ 

But  his  companion  answered  him:  ‘ Nay,  but 
it  were  an  evil  thing  to  leave  the  child  to  perish 
here  in  the  snow,  and  though  I am  as  poor  as 


152 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


thou  art,  and  have  many  mouths  to  feed,  and 
but  little  in  the  pot,  yet  will  I bring  it  home 
with  me,  and  my  wife  shall  have  care  of  it/ 

So  very  tenderly  he  took  up  the  child,  and 
wrapped  the  cloak  around  it  to  shield  it  from 
the  harsh  cold,  and  made  his  way  down  the  hill 
to  the  village,  his  comrade  marvelling  much  at 
his  foolishness  and  softness  of  heart. 

And  when  they  came  to  the  village,  his 
comrade  said  to  him,  ' Thou  hast  the  child, 
therefore  give  me  the  cloak,  for  it  is  meet  that 
we  should  share/ 

But  he  answered  him:  'Nay,  for  the  cloak 
is  neither  mine  nor  thine,  but  the  child’s  only/ 
and  he  bade  him  Godspeed,  and  went  to  his 
own  house  and  knocked. 

And  when  his  wife  opened  the  door  and  saw 
that  her  husband  had  returned  safe  to  her,  she 
put  her  arms  round  his  neck  and  kissed  him, 
and  took  from  his  back  the  bundle  of  faggots, 
and  brushed  the  snow  off  his  boots,  and  bade 
him  come  in. 

But  he  said  to  her,  ' I have  found  something 
in  the  forest,  and  I have  brought  it  to  thee  to 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


153 


have  care  of  it/  and  he  stirred  not  from  the 
threshold. 

‘ What  is  it?’  she  cried.  ‘Show  it  to  me,  for 
the  house  is  bare,  and  we  have  need  of  many 
things/  And  he  drew  the  cloak  back,  and 
showed  her  the  sleeping  child. 

‘Alack,  goodman!’  she  murmured,  ‘have  we 
not  children  of  our  own,  that  thou  must  needs 
bring  a changeling  to  sit  by  the  hearth  ? And 
who  knows  if  it  will  not  bring  us  bad  fortune  ? 
And  how  shall  we  tend  it  ? * And  she  was 
wroth  against  him. 

‘ Nay,  but  it  is  a Star-Child/  he  answered  ; 
and  he  told  her  the  strange  manner  of  the  find- 
ing of  it. 

But  she  would  not  be  appeased,  but  mocked 
at  him,  and  spoke  angrily,  and  cried:  ‘Our 
children  lack  bread,  and  shall  we  feed  the  child 
of  another?  Who  is  there  who  careth  for  us? 
And  who  giveth  us  food  ? 7 

‘ Nay,  but  God  careth  for  the  sparrows  even, 
and  feedeth  them/  he  answered. 

‘Do  not  the  sparrows  die  of  hunger  in  the 
winter  ? ' she  asked.  ‘ And  is  it  not  winter  now  ? * 


154 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


And  the  man  answered  nothing,  but  stirred  not 
from  the  threshold. 

And  a bitter  wind  from  the  forest  came  in 
through  the  open  door,  and  made  her  tremble, 
and  she  shivered,  and  said  to  him:  ‘Wilt  thou 
not  close  the  door?  There  cometh  a bittei 
wind  into  the  house,  and  I am  cold/ 

f Into  a house  where  a heart  is  hard  cometh 
there  not  always  a bitter  wind  ? ’ he  asked.  And 
the  woman  answered  him  nothing,  but  crept 
closer  to  the  fire. 

And  after  a time  she  turned  round  and  looked 
at  him,  and  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  And 
he  came  in  swiftly,  and  placed  the  child  in  her 
arms,  and  she  kissed  it,  and  laid  it  in  a little  bed 
where  the  youngest  of  their  own  children  was 
lying.  And  on  the  morrow  the  Woodcutter 
took  the  curious  cloak  of  gold  and  placed  it  in 
a great  chest,  and  a chain  of  amber  that  was 
round  the  child’s  neck  his  wife  took  and  set  it 
in  the  chest  also. 

So  the  Star-Child  was  brought  up  with  the 
children  of  the  Woodcutter,  and  sat  at  the  same 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


155 


board  with  them,  and  was  their  playmate.  And 
every  year  he  became  more  beautiful  to  look  at, 
so  that  all  those  who  dwelt  in  the  village  were 
filled  with  wonder,  for,  while  they  were  swarthy 
and  black-haired,  he  was  white  and  delicate  as 
sawn  ivory,  and  his  curls  were  like  the  rings  of 
the  daffodil.  His  lips,  also,  were  like  the  petals 
of  a red  flower,  and  his  eyes  were  like  violets 
by  a river  of  pure  water,  and  his  body  like  the 
narcissus  of  a field  where  the  mower  comes  not. 

Yet  did  his  beauty  work  him  evil.  For  he 
grew  proud,  and  cruel,  and  selfish.  The  children 
of  the  Woodcutter,  and  the  other  children  of 
the  village,  he  despised,  saying  that  they  were 
of  mean  parentage,  while  he  was  noble,  being 
sprung  from  a Star,  and  he  made  himself  master 
over  them,  and  called  them  his  servants.  No 
pity  had  he  for  the  poor,  or  for  those  who  were 
blind  or  maimed  or  in  any  way  afflicted,  but 
would  cast  stones  at  them  and  drive  them  forth 
on  to  the  highway,  and  bid  them  beg  their  bread 
elsewhere,  so  that  none  save  the  outlaws  came 
twice  to  that  village  to  ask  for  alms.  Indeed, 
he  was  as  one  enamoured  of  beauty,  and  would 


156 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


mock  at  the  weakly  and  ill-favoured,  and  make 
jest  of  them ; and  himself  he  loved,  and  in 
summer,  when  the  winds  were  still,  he  would 
lie  by  the  well  in  the  priest’s  orchard  and  look 
down  at  the  marvel  of  his  own  face,  and  laugh 
for  the  pleasure  he  had  in  his  fairness. 

Often  did  the  Woodcutter  and  his  wife  chide 
him,  and  say : f We  did  not  deal  with  thee  as 
thou  dealest  with  those  who  are  left  desolate, 
and  have  none  to  succour  them.  Wherefore 
art  thou  so  cruel  to  all  who  need  pity  ? * 

Often  did  the  old  priest  send  for  him,  and 
seek  to  teach  him  the  love  of  living  things, 
saying  to  him  : f The  fly  is  thy  brother.  Do  it 
no  harm.  The  wild  birds  that  roam  through 
the  forest  have  their  freedom.  Snare  them  not 
for  thy  pleasure.  God  made  the  blind-worm 
and  the  mole,  and  each  has  its  place.  Who  art 
thou  to  bring  pain  into  God’s  world  ? Even  the 
cattle  of  the  field  praise  Him.’ 

But  the  Star-Child  heeded  not  their  words, 
but  would  frown  and  flout,  and  go  back  to  his 
companions,  and  lead  them.  And  his  com- 
panions followed  him,  for  he  was  fair,  and  fleet 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


157 


of  foot,  and  could  dance,  and  pipe,  and  make 
music.  And  wherever  the  Star-Child  led  them 
they  followed,  and  whatever  the  Star-Child 
bade  them  do,  that  did  they.  And  when  he 
pierced  with  a sharp  reed  the  dim  eyes  of  the 
mole,  they  laughed,  and  when  he  cast  stones  at 
the  leper  they  laughed  also.  And  in  all  things 
he  ruled  them,  and  they  became  hard  of  heart 
even  as  he  was. 

Now  there  passed  one  day  through  the  village 
a poor  beggar-woman.  Her  garments  were  torn 
and  ragged,  and  her  feet  were  bleeding  from 
the  rough  road  on  which  she  had  travelled, 
and  she  was  in  very  evil  plight.  And  being 
weary  she  sat  her  down  under  a chestnut-tree 
to  rest. 

But  when  the  Star-Child  saw  her,  he  said 
to  his  companions,  'See!  There  sitteth  a foul 
beggar-woman  under  that  fair  and  green-leaved 
tree.  Come,  let  us  drive  her  hence,  for  she  is 
ugly  and  ill-favoured/ 

So  he  came  near  and  threw  stones  at  her,  and 
mocked  her,  and  she  looked  at  him  with  terror 


158 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


in  hr  eyes,  nor  did  she  move  her  gaze  from  him 
And  when  the  Woodcutter,  who  was  cleaving 
logs  in  a haggard  hard  by,  saw  what  the  Star- 
Child  was  doing,  he  ran  up  and  rebuked  him, 
and  said  to  him  : c Surely  thou  art  hard  of  heart 
and  knowest  not  mercy,  for  what  evil  has  this 
poor  woman  done  to  thee  that  thou  shouldst 
treat  her  in  this  wise  ?' 

And  the  Star-Child  grew  red  with  anger,  and 
stamped  his  foot  upon  the  ground,  and  said. 
Who  art  thou  to  question  me  what  I do?  I 
am  no  son  of  thine  to  do  thy  bidding/ 

* Thou  speakest  truly/  answered  the  Wood- 
cutter, ‘yet  did  I show  thee  pity  when  1 found 
thee  in  the  forest/ 

And  when  the  woman  heard  these  words  she 
gave  a loud  cry,  and  fell  into  a swoon.  And 
the  Woodcutter  carried  her  to  his  own  house, 
and  his  wife  had  care  of  her,  and  when  she  rose 
up  from  the  swoon  into  which  she  had  fallen, 
they  set  meat  and  drink  before  her,  and  bade 
her  have  comfort. 

But  she  would  neither  eat  nor  drink,  but  said 
to  the  Woodcutter,  s Didst  thou  not  say  that 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


159 


the  child  was  found  in  the  forest  ? And  was  it 
not  ten  years  from  this  day  ? ’ 

And  the  Woodcutter  answered,  ‘Yea,  it  was 
in  the  forest  that  I found  him,  and  it  is  ten 
years  from  this  day/ 

‘And  what  signs  didst  thou  find  with  him?* 
she  cried.  ‘ Bare  he  not  upon  his  neck  a chain 
of  amber?  Was  not  round  him  a cloak  of  gold 
tissue  broidered  with  stars  ? ’ 

‘Truly/  answered  the  Woodcutter,  ‘it  was 
even  as  thou  sayest/  And  he  took  the  cloak 
and  the  amber  chain  from  the  chest  where  they 
lay,  and  showed  them  to  her. 

And  when  she  saw  them  she  wept  for  joy, 
and  said,  ‘ He  is  my  little  son  whom  I lost  in 
the  forest.  I pray  thee  send  for  him  quickly, 
for  in  search  of  him  have  I wandered  over  the 
whole  world/ 

So  the  Woodcutter  and  his  wife  went  out 
and  called  to  the  Star-Child,  and  said  to  him, 
‘ Go  into  the  house,  and  there  shalt  thou  find 
thy  mother,  who  is  waiting  for  thee/ 

So  he  ran  in,  filled  with  wonder  and  great 
gladness.  But  when  he  saw  her  who  was  wait- 


160 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


ing  there,  he  laughed  scornfully  and  said,  ' Why, 
where  is  my  mother?  For  I see  none  here  but 
this  vile  beggar-woman/ 

And  the  woman  answered  him,  ' I am  thy 
mother/ 

'Thou  art  mad  to  say  so/  cried  the  Star-Child 
angrily.  ‘ I am  no  son  of  thine,  for  thou  art  a 
beggar,  and  ugly,  and  in  rags.  Therefore  get  thee 
hence,  and  let  me  see  thy  foul  face  no  more/ 
f Nay,  but  thou  art  indeed  my  little  son, 
whom  I bare  in  the  forest/  she  cried,  and  she 
fell  on  her  knees,  and  held  out  her  arms  to  him. 
'The  robbers  stole  thee  from  me,  and  left  thee 
to  die/  she  murmured,  'but  I recognised  thee 
when  I saw  thee,  and  the  signs  also  have  I 
recognised,  the  cloak  of  golden  tissue  and  the 
amber  chain.  Therefore  I pray  thee  come  with 
me,  for  over  the  whole  world  have  I wandered 
in  search  of  thee.  Come  with  me,  my  son,  for 
I have  need  of  thy  love/ 

But  the  Star-Child  stirred  not  from  his  place, 
but  shut  the  doors  of  his  heart  against  her,  nor 
was  there  any  sound  heard  save  the  sound  of 
the  woman  weeping  for  pain. 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


161 


And  at  last  he  spoke  to  her,  and  his  voice 
was  hard  and  bitter.  4 If  in  very  truth  thou  art 
my  mother/  he  said,  4 it  had  been  better  hadst 
thou  stayed  away,  and  not  come  here  to 
bring  me  to  shame,  seeing  that  I thought  I 
was  the  child  of  some  Star,  and  not  a beggars 
child,  as  thou  tellest  me  that  I am.  There- 
fore get  thee  hence,  and  let  me  see  thee  no 
more/ 

4 Alas  ! my  son/  she  cried,  4 wilt  thou  not  kiss 
me  before  I go?  For  I have  suffered  much  to 
find  thee/ 

4 Nay/  said  the  Star-Child,  4 but  thou  art  too 
foul  to  look  at,  and  rather  would  I kiss  the 
adder  or  the  toad  than  thee/ 

So  the  woman  rose  up,  and  went  away  into 
the  forest  weeping  bitterly,  and  when  the  Star- 
Child  saw  that  she  had  gone,  he  was  glad,  and 
ran  back  to  his  playmates  that  he  might  play 
with  them. 

But  when  they  beheld  him  coming,  they 
mocked  him  and  said,  4 Why,  thou  art  as  foul 
as  the  toad,  and  as  loathsome  as  the  adder.  Get 
thee  hence,  for  we  will  not  suffer  thee  to  play 

L 


162 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


with  us/  and  they  drave  him  out  of  the 
garden. 

And  the  Star-Child  frowned  and  said  to  him- 
self, ‘ What  is  this  that  they  say  to  me  ? I will 
go  to  the  well  of  water  and  look  into  it,  and  it 
shall  tell  me  of  my  beauty/ 

So  he  went  to  the  well  of  water  and  looked 
into  it,  and  lo  ! his  face  was  as  the  face  of  a toad, 
and  his  body  was  scaled  like  an  adder.  And 
he  flung  himself  down  on  the  grass  and  wept, 
and  said  to  himself,  ' Surely  this  has  come  upon 
me  by  reason  of  my  sin.  For  I have  denied  my 
mother,  and  driven  her  away,  and  been  proud, 
and  cruel  to  her.  Wherefore  I will  go  and  seek 
her  through  the  whole  world,  nor  will  I rest  till 
I have  found  her/ 

And  there  came  to  him  the  little  daughter  of 
the  Woodcutter,  and  she  put  her  hand  upon  his 
shoulder  and  said,  4 What  doth  it  matter  if  thou 
hast  lost  thy  comeliness?  Stay  with  us,  and  I 
will  not  mock  at  thee/ 

And  he  said  to  her,  f Nay,  but  I have  been 
cruel  to  my  mother,  and  as  a punishment  has 
this  evil  been  sent  to  me.  Wherefore  I must 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


163 


go  hence,  and  wander  through  the  world  till  1 
find  her,  and  she  give  me  her  forgiveness/ 

So  he  ran  away  into  the  forest  and  called  out 
to  his  mother  to  come  to  him,  but  there  was 
no  answer.  All  day  long  he  called  to  her,  and 
when  the  sun  set  he  lay  down  to  sleep  on  a bed 
of  leaves,  and  the  birds  and  the  animals  fled 
from  him,  for  they  remembered  his  cruelty,  and 
he  was  alone  save  for  the  toad  that  watched 
him,  and  the  slow  adder  that  crawled  past. 

And  in  the  morning  he  rose  up,  and  plucked 
some  bitter  berries  from  the  trees  and  ate  them, 
and  took  his  way  through  the  great  wood,  weep- 
ing sorely.  And  of  everything  that  he  met  he 
made  inquiry  if  perchance  they  had  seen  his 
mother. 

He  said  to  the  Mole,  ‘ Thou  canst  go  beneath 
the  earth.  Tell  me,  is  my  mother  there  ?’ 

And  the  Mole  answered,  ‘ Thou  hast  blinded 
mine  eyes.  How  should  I know  ? * 

He  said  to  the  Linnet,  ‘ Thou  canst  fly  over 
the  tops  of  the  tall  trees,  and  canst  see  the 
whole  world.  Tell  me,  canst  thou  see  my 
mother  ? ' 


164 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


And  the  Linnet  answered,  ‘ Thou  hast  dipt 
my  wings  for  thy  pleasure.  How  should  I fly  ? ' 

And  to  the  little  Squirrel  who  lived  in  the 
fir-tree,  and  was  lonely,  he  said,  c Where  is  my 
mother  ? ’ 

And  the  Squirrel  answered,  * Thou  hast  slain 
mine.  Dost  thou  seek  to  slay  thine  also  ? * 

And  the  Star-Child  wept  and  bowed  his  head, 
and  prayed  forgiveness  of  God’s  things,  and 
went  on  through  the  forest,  seeking  for  the 
beggar-woman.  And  on  the  third  day  he  came 
to  the  other  side  of  the  forest  and  went  down 
into  the  plain. 

And  when  he  passed  through  the  villages  the 
children  mocked  him,  and  threw  stones  at  him, 
and  the  carlots  would  not  suffer  him  even  to 
sleep  in  the  byres  lest  he  might  bring  mildew 
on  the  stored  corn,  so  foul  was  he  to  look  at, 
and  their  hired  men  drave  him  away,  and  there 
was  none  who  had  pity  on  him.  Nor  could  he 
hear  anywhere  of  the  beggar-woman  who  was 
his  mother,  though  for  the  space  of  three  years 
he  wandered  over  the  world,  and  often  seemed 
to  see  her  on  the  road  in  front  of  him,  and 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


165 


would  call  to  her,  and  run  after  her  till  the 
sharp  flints  made  his  feet  to  bleed.  But  over- 
take her  he  could  not,  and  those  who  dwelt  by 
the  way  did  ever  deny  that  they  had  seen  her, 
or  any  like  to  her,  and  they  made  sport  of  his 
sorrow. 

For  the  space  of  three  years  he  wandered 
over  the  world,  and  in  the  world  there  was 
neither  love  nor  loving-kindness  nor  charity 
for  him,  but  it  was  even  such  a world  as  he 
had  made  for  himself  in  the  days  of  his  great 
pride. 

And  one  evening  he  came  to  the  gate  of  a 
strong-walled  city  that  stood  by  a river,  and, 
weary  and  footsore  though  he  was,  he  made  to 
enter  in.  But  the  soldiers  who  stood  on  guard 
dropped  their  halberts  across  the  entrance,  and 
said  roughly  to  him,  ‘What  is  thy  business  in 
the  city  ?’ 

‘ I am  seeking  for  my  mother/  he  answered, 
* and  I pray  ye  to  suffer  me  to  pass,  for  it  may 
be  that  she  is  in  this  city/ 

But  they  mocked  at  him,  and  one  of  them 


166 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


wagged  a black  beard,  and  set  down  his  shield 
and  cried,  ‘ Of  a truth,  thy  mother  will  not  be 
merry  when  she  sees  thee,  for  thou  art  more 
ill-favoured  than  the  toad  of  the  marsh,  or  the 
adder  that  crawls  in  the  fen.  Get  thee  gone. 
Get  thee  gone.  Thy  mother  dwells  not  in  this 
city/ 

And  another,  who  held  a yellow  banner  in  his 
hand,  said  to  him,  f Who  is  thy  mother,  and 
wherefore  art  thou  seeking  for  her  ? ’ 

And  he  answered,  f My  mother  is  a beggar 
even  as  I am,  and  I have  treated  her  evilly,  and 
I pray  ye  to  suffer  me  to  pass  that  she  may  give 
me  her  forgiveness,  if  it  be  that  she  tarrieth  in 
this  city/  But  they  would  not,  and  pricked  him 
with  their  spears. 

And,  as  he  turned  away  weeping,  one  whose 
armour  was  inlaid  with  gilt  flowers,  and  on 
whose  helmet  couched  a lion  that  had  wings, 
came  up  and  made  inquiry  of  the  soldiers  who 
it  was  who  had  sought  entrance.  And  they 
said  to  him,  ‘It  is  a beggar  and  the  child 
of  a beggar,  and  we  have  driven  him 
away/ 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


167 


* Nay/  he  cried,  laughing,  ‘ but  we  will  sell  the 
foul  thing  for  a slave,  and  his  price  shall  be  the 
price  of  a bowl  of  sweet  wine.’ 

And  an  old  and  evil-visaged  man  who  was 
passing  by  called  out,  and  said,  f I will  buy  him 
for  that  price/  and,  when  he  had  paid  the  price, 
he  took  the  Star-Child  by  the  hand  and  led  him 
into  the  city. 

And  after  that  they  had  gone  through  many 
streets  they  came  to  a little  door  that  was  set 
in  a wall  that  was  covered  with  a pomegranate 
tree.  And  the  old  man  touched  the  door  with 
a ring  of  graved  jasper  and  it  opened,  and  they 
went  down  five  steps  of  brass  into  a garden 
filled  with  black  poppies  and  green  jars  of  burnt 
clay.  And  the  old  man  took  then  from  his 
turban  a scarf  of  figured  silk,  and  bound  with  it 
the  eyes  of  the  Star-Child,  and  drave  him  in  front 
of  him.  And  when  the  scarf  was  taken  off  his 
eyes,  the  Star-Child  found  himself  in  a dungeon, 
that  was  lit  by  a lantern  of  horn. 

And  the  old  man  set  before  him  some  mouldy 
bread  on  a trencher  and  said,  ‘ Eat/  and  some 
brackish  water  in  a cup  and  said,  e Drink/  and 


168 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


when  he  had  eaten  and  drunk,  the  old  man 
went  out,  locking  the  door  behind  him  and 
fastening  it  with  an  iron  chain. 

And  on  the  morrow  the  old  man,  who  was 
indeed  the  subtlest  of  the  magicians  of  Libya 
and  had  learned  his  art  from  one  who  dwelt 
in  the  tombs  of  the  Nile,  came  in  to  him  and 
frowned  at  him,  and  said,  c In  a wood  that  is 
nigh  to  the  gate  of  this  city  of  Giaours  there  are 
three  pieces  of  gold.  One  is  of  white  gold,  and 
another  is  of  yellow  gold,  and  the  gold  of  the 
third  one  is  red.  To-day  thou  shalt  bring  me 
the  piece  of  white  gold,  and  if  thou  bringest  it 
not  back,  I will  beat  thee  with  a hundred  stripes. 
Get  thee  away  quickly,  and  at  sunset  I will  be 
waiting  for  thee  at  the  door  of  the  garden.  See 
that  thou  bringest  the  white  gold,  or  it  shall  go 
ill  with  thee,  for  thou  art  my  slave,  and  I have 
bought  thee  for  the  price  of  a bowl  of  sweet 
wine/  And  he  bound  the  eyes  of  the  Star- 
Child  with  the  scarf  of  figured  silk,  and  led  him 
through  the  house,  and  through  the  garden  of 
poppies,  and  up  the  five  steps  of  brass.  And 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


169 


having  opened  the  little  door  with  his  ring  he 
set  him  in  the  street. 

And  the  Star-Child  went  out  of  the  gate  of 
the  city,  and  came  to  the  wood  of  which  the 
Magician  had  spoken  to  him. 

Now  this  wood  was  very  fair  to  look  at  from 
without,  and  seemed  full  of  singing  birds  and  of 
sweet-scented  flowers,  and  the  Star-Child  entered 
it  gladly.  Yet  did  its  beauty  profit  him  little, 
for  wherever  he  went  harsh  briars  and  thorns 
shot  up  from  the  ground  and  encompassed  him, 
and  evil  nettles  stung  him,  and  the  thistle 
pierced  him  with  her  daggers,  so  that  he  was 
in  sore  distress.  Nor  could  he  anywhere  find 
the  piece  of  white  gold  of  which  the  Magician 
had  spoken,  though  he  sought  for  it  from  mom 
to  noon,  and  from  noon  to  sunset.  And  at 
sunset  he  set  his  face  towards  home,  weeping 
bitterly,  for  he  knew  what  fate  was  in  store  for 
him. 

But  when  he  had  reached  the  outskirts  of  the 
wood,  he  heard  from  a thicket  a cry  as  of  some 
one  in  pain.  And  forgetting  his  own  sorrow  he 


170  A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


ran  back  to  the  place,  and  saw  there  a little 
Hare  caught  in  a trap  that  some  hunter  had  set 
for  it. 

And  the  Star-Child  had  pity  on  it,  and  released 
it,  and  said  to  it,  ' I am  myself  but  a slave,  yet 
may  I give  thee  thy  freedom/ 

And  the  Hare  answered  him,  and  said : 
* Surely  thou  hast  given  me  freedom,  and  what 
shall  I give  thee  in  return  ? 9 

And  the  Star-Child  said  to  it,  'I  am  seeking 
for  a piece  of  white  gold,  nor  can  I anywhere 
find  it,  and  if  I bring  it  not  to  my  master  he  will 
beat  me/ 

e Come  thou  with  me/  said  the  Hare,  ‘ and  I 
will  lead  thee  to  it,  for  I know  where  it  is 
hidden,  and  for  what  purpose/ 

So  the  Star-Child  went  with  the  Hare,  and 
lo ! in  the  cleft  of  a great  oak-tree  he  saw  the 
piece  of  white  gold  that  he  was  seeking.  And 
he  wras  filled  with  joy,  and  seized  it,  and  said  to 
the  Hare,  c The  service  that  I did  to  thee  thou 
hast  rendered  back  again  many  times  over,  and 
the  kindness  that  I showed  thee  thou  hast 
repaid  a hundred-fold/ 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


171 


Nay/  answered  the  Hare,  ‘ but  as  thou  dealt 
with  me,  so  I did  deal  with  thee/  and  it  ran 
away  swiftly,  and  the  Star-Child  went  towards 
the  city. 

Now  at  the  gate  of  the  city  there  was  seated 
one  who  was  a leper.  Over  his  face  hung  a cowl 
of  grey  linen,  and  through  the  eyelets  his  eyes 
gleamed  like  red  coals.  And  when  he  saw  the 
Star- Child  coming,  he  struck  upon  a wooden 
bowl,  and  clattered  his  bell,  and  called  out  to 
him,  and  said,  c Give  me  a piece  of  money,  or  I 
must  die  of  hunger.  For  they  have  thrust  me 
out  of  the  city,  and  there  is  no  one  who  has 
pity  on  me/ 

e Alas!*  cried  the  Star-Child,  I have  but  one 
piece  of  money  in  my  wallet,  and  if  I bring  it 
not  to  my  master  he  will  beat  me,  for  1 am  his 
slave/ 

But  the  leper  entreated  him,  and  prayed  of 
him,  till  the  Star-Child  had  pity,  and  gave  him 
the  piece  of  white  gold. 

And  when  he  came  to  the  Magician’s  house, 
the  Magician  opened  to  him,  and  brought  him 
in,  and  said  to  him,  * Hast  thou  the  piece  of 


172 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


white  gold  ? * And  the  Star-Child  answered,  ' I 
have  it  not/  So  the  Magician  fell  upon  him, 
and  beat  him,  and  set  before  him  an  empty 
trencher,  and  said,  ‘ Eat/  and  an  empty  cup, 
and  said,  ‘ Drink/  and  flung  him  again  into  the 
dungeon. 

And  on  the  morrow  the  Magician  came  to 
him,  and  said,  ‘ If  to-day  thou  bringest  me 
not  the  piece  of  yellow  gold,  I will  surely  keep 
thee  as  my  slave,  and  give  thee  three  hundred 
stripes/ 

So  the  Star-Child  went  to  the  wood,  and  all 
day  long  he  searched  for  the  piece  of  yellow 
gold,  but  nowhere  could  he  find  it.  And  at 
sunset  he  sat  him  down  and  began  to  weep,  and 
as  he  was  weeping  there  came  to  him  the  little 
Hare  that  he  had  rescued  from  the  trap. 

And  the  Hare  said  to  him,  ‘ Why  art  thou 
weeping  ? And  what  dost  thou  seek  in  the 
wood  ? 

And  the  Star-Child  answered,  * I am  seeking 
for  a piece  of  yellow  gold  that  is  hidden  here, 
and  if  I find  it  not  my  master  will  beat  me,  and 
keep  me  as  a slave/ 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


173 


‘ Follow  me/  cried  the  Hare,  and  it  ran 
through  the  wood  till  it  came  to  a pool  of  water. 
And  at  the  bottom  of  the  pool  the  piece  of 
yellow  gold  was  lying. 

‘ How  shall  I thank  thee  ? ' said  the  Star- 
Child,  ‘ for  lo  ! this  is  the  second  time  that  you 
have  succoured  me.* 

‘Nay,  but  thou  hadst  pity  on  me  first/  said 
the  Hare,  and  it  ran  away  swiftly. 

And  the  Star-Child  took  the  piece  of  yellow 
gold,  and  put  it  in  his  wallet,  and  hurried  to 
the  city.  But  the  leper  saw  him  coming,  and 
ran  to  meet  him,  and  knelt  down  and  cried, 
‘Give  me  a piece  of  money  or  I shall  die  of 
hunger/ 

And  the  Star-Child  said  to  him,  ‘ I have  in 
my  wallet  but  one  piece  of  yellow  gold,  and  if  I 
bring  it  not  to  my  master  he  will  beat  me  and 
keep  me  as  his  slave/ 

But  the  leper  entreated  him  sore,  so  that  the 
Star-Child  had  pity  on  him,  and  gave  him  the 
piece  of  yellow  gold. 

And  when  he  came  to  the  Magician's  house, 


174 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


the  Magician  opened  to  him,  and  brought  him 
in,  and  said  to  him,  ‘ Hast  thou  the  piece  of 
yellow  gold?’  And  the  Star-Child  said  to  him, 
‘ I have  it  not/  So  the  Magician  fell  upon  him, 
and  beat  him,  and  loaded  him  with  chains,  and 
cast  him  again  into  the  dungeon. 

And  on  the  morrow  the  Magician  came  to  him, 
and  said,  ‘ If  to-day  thou  bringest  me  the  piece 
of  red  gold  I will  set  thee  free,  but  if  thou 
bringest  it  not  I will  surely  slay  thee/ 

So  the  Star-Child  went  to  the  wood,  and  all 
day  long  he  searched  for  the  piece  of  red  gold, 
but  nowhere  could  he  find  it.  And  at  evening 
he  sat  him  down  and  wept,  and  as  he  was 
weeping  there  came  to  him  the  little  Hare. 

And  the  Hare  said  to  him,  f The  piece  of  red 
gold  that  thou  seekest  is  in  the  cavern  that  is 
behind  thee.  Therefore  weep  no  more  but  be 
glad/ 

‘How  shall  I reward  thee?'  cried  the  Star- 
Child,  f for  lo  ! this  is  the  third  time  thou  hast 
succoured  me/ 

‘ Nay,  but  thou  hadst  pity  on  me  first/  said 
the  Hare,  and  it  ran  away  swiftly. 


fHE  STAR-CHILD 


175 


And  the  Star-Child  entered  the  cavern,  and 
in  its  farthest  corner  he  found  the  piece  of  red 
gold.  So  he  put  it  in  his  wallet,  and  hurried  to 
the  city.  And  the  leper  seeing  him  coming, 
stood  in  the  centre  of  the  road,  and  cried  out, 
and  said  to  him,  ‘Give  me  the  piece  of  red 
money,  or  I must  die/  and  the  Star-Child  had 
pity  on  him  again,  and  gave  him  the  piece  of 
red  gold,  saying,  ‘Thy  need  is  greater  than 
mine/  Yet  was  his  heart  heavy,  for  he  knew 
what  evil  fate  awaited  him. 

But  lo ! as  he  passed  through  the  gate  of  the 
city,  the  guards  bowed  down  and  made  obeisance 
to  him,  saying,  ‘ How  beautiful  is  our  lord  ! ' 
and  a crowd  of  citizens  followed  him,  and  cried 
out,  ‘ Surely  there  is  none  so  beautiful  in  the 
whole  world  ! * so  that  the  Star-Child  wept,  and 
said  to  himself,  ‘They  are  mocking  me,  and 
making  light  of  my  misery/  And  so  large  was 
the  concourse  of  the  people,  that  he  lost  the 
threads  of  his  way,  and  found  himself  at  last  in 
a great  square,  in  which  there  was  a palace  of 
a King. 


176 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


And  the  gate  of  the  palace  opened,  and  the 
priests  and  the  high  officers  of  the  city  ran  forth 
to  meet  him,  and  they  abased  themselves  before 
him,  and  said,  e Thou  art  our  lord  for  whom  we 
have  been  waiting,  and  the  son  of  our  King/ 

And  the  Star-Child  answered  them  and  said, 
‘ I am  no  king's  son,  but  the  child  of  a poor 
beggar-woman.  And  how  say  ye  that  I am 
beautiful,  for  I know  that  I am  evil  to  look 
at?’ 

Then  he,  whose  armour  was  inlaid  with  gilt 
flowers,  and  on  whose  helmet  crouched  a lion 
that  had  wings,  held  up  a shield,  and  cried, 
f How  saith  my  lord  that  he  is  not  beautiful?' 

And  the  Star-Child  looked,  and  lo  ! his  face 
was  even  as  it  had  been,  and  his  comeliness  had 
come  back  to  him,  and  he  saw  that  in  his  eyes 
which  he  had  not  seen  there  before. 

And  the  priests  and  the  high  officers  knelt 
down  and  said  to  him,  ‘ It  was  prophesied  of 
old  that  on  this  day  should  come  he  who  was 
to  rule  over  us.  Therefore,  let  our  lord  take 
this  crown  and  this  sceptre,  and  be  in  his  justice 
and  mercy  our  King  over  us/ 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


177 


But  he  said  to  them,  * I am  not  worthy,  for 
I have  denied  the  mother  who  bare  me,  nor 
may  I rest  till  I have  found  her,  and  known  her 
forgiveness.  Therefore,  let  me  go,  for  I must 
wander  again  over  the  world,  and  may  not  tarry 
here,  though  ye  bring  me  the  crown  and  the 
sceptre.'  And  as  he  spake  he  turned  his  face 
from  them  towards  the  street  that  led  to  the 
gate  of  the  city,  and  lo  ! amongst  the  crowd 
that  pressed  round  the  soldiers,  he  saw  the 
beggar-woman  who  was  his  mother,  and  at  her 
side  stood  the  leper,  who  had  sat  by  the  road. 

And  a cry  of  joy  broke  from  his  lips,  and 
he  ran  over,  and  kneeling  down  he  kissed  the 
wounds  on  his  mother's  feet,  and  wet  them  with 
his  tears.  He  bowed  his  head  in  the  dust,  and 
sobbing,  as  one  whose  heart  might  break,  he 
said  to  her:  ‘ Mother,  I denied  thee  in  the  hour 
of  my  pride.  Accept  me  in  the  hour  of  my 
humility.  Mother,  I gave  thee  hatred.  Do 
thou  give  me  love.  Mother,  I rejected  thee. 
Receive  thy  child  now/  But  the  beggar-woman 
answered  him  not  a word. 

And  he  reached  out  his  hands,  and  clasped 

M 


178  A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


the  w hite  feet  of  the  leper,  and  said  to  him : 
'Thrice  did  I give  thee  of  my  mercy.  Bid 
my  mother  speak  to  me  once/  But  the  leper 
answered  him  not  a word. 

And  he  sobbed  again  and  said:  'Mother, 
my  suffering  is  greater  than  I can  bear.  Give 
me  thy  forgiveness,  and  let  me  go  back  to  the 
forest/  And  the  beggar-woman  put  her  hand 
on  his  head,  and  said  to  him,  ' Rise/  and  the 
leper  put  his  hand  on  his  head,  and  said  to  him, 
* Rise/  also. 

And  he  rose  up  from  his  feet,  and  looked  at 
them,  and  lo  ! they  were  a King  and  a Queen. 

And  the  Queen  said  to  him,  'This  is  thy 
father  whom  thou  hast  succoured/ 

And  the  King  said,  'This  is  thy  mother 
whose  feet  thou  hast  washed  with  thy  tears/ 
And  they  fell  on  his  neck  and  kissed  him,  and 
brought  him  into  the  palace  and  clothed  him 
in  fair  raiment,  and  set  the  crown  upon  his  head, 
and  the  sceptre  in  his  hand,  and  over  the  city 
that  stood  by  the  river  he  ruled,  and  was  its 
lord.  Much  justice  and  mercy  did  he  show  to 
all,  and  the  evil  Magician  he  banished,  and  to 


THE  STAR-CHILD 


179 


the  Woodcutter  aiul  his  wife  he  sent  many  rich 
gifts,  and  to  their  children  he  gave  high  honour. 
Nor  would  he  suffer  any  to  be  cruel  to  bird  or 
beast,  but  taught  love  and  loving-kindness  and 
charity,  and  to  the  poor  he  gave  bread,  and  to 
the  naked  he  gave  raiment,  and  there  was  peace 
and  plenty  in  the  land. 

Yet  ruled  he  not  long,  so  great  had  been  his 
suffering,  and  so  bitter  the  fire  of  his  testing,  foi 
after  the  space  of  three  years  he  died.  And  h« 
who  came  after  him  ruled  evilly. 


THE  HAPPY  PRINCE 


CARLOS  BLACKER 


THE  HAPPY  PRINCE 


IGH  above  the  city,  on  a tall  column,  stood  the 


statue  of  the  Happy  Prince.  He  was  gilded 
all  over  with  thin  leaves  of  fine  gold,  for  eyes  he  had 
two  bright  sapphires,  and  a large  red  ruby  glowed  on 
his  sword-hilt. 

He  was  very  much  admired  indeed.  “ He  is  as 
beautiful  as  a weathercock,  ” remarked  one  of  the 
Town  Councillors  who  wished  to  gain  a reputation  for 
having  artistic  tastes ; “ only  not  quite  so  useful,  ” 
he  added,  fearing  lest  people  should  think  him  un- 
practical, which  he  really  was  not. 

“ Why  can’t  you  be  like  the  Happy  Prince  ? ” asked 
a sensible  mother  of  her  little  boy  who  was  crying  for 
the  moon.  “ The  Happy  Prince  never  dreams  of 
crying  for  anything.  ” 

“ I am  glad  there  is  some  one  in  the  world  who  is 
quite  happy,  ” muttered  a disappointed  man  as  he 
gazed  at  the  wonderful  statue. 

“ He  looks  just  like  an  angel,  ” said  the  charity 
children  as  they  came  out  of  the  cathedral  in  their 
bright  scarlet  cloaks  and  their  clean  white  pinafores. 

" How  do  you  know  ? ” said  the  Mathematical 
Master.  " You  have  never  seen  one.  ” 


183 


184 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


“Ah!  but  we  have  in  our  dreams,  ” answered  the 
children;  and  the  Mathematical  Master  frowned  and 
looked  very  severe,  for  he  did  not  approve  of  children 
dreaming. 

One  night  there  flew  over  the  city  a little  Swallow. 
His  friends  had  gone  away  to  Egypt  six  weeks  before, 
but  he  had  stayed  behind,  for  he  was  in  love  with  the 
most  beautiful  Reed.  He  had  met  her  early  in  the 
spring  as  he  was  flying  down  the  river  after  a big  yellow 
moth,  and  had  been  so  attracted  by  her  slender  waist 
that  he  had  stopped  to  talk  to  her. 

“ Shall  I love  you  ? ” said  the  Swallow,  who  liked  to 
come  to  the  point  at  once,  and  the  Reed  made  him  a 
low  bow.  So  he  flew  round  and  round  her,  touching 
the  water  with  his  wings,  and  making  silver  ripples. 
This  was  his  courtship,  and  it  lasted  all  through  the 
summer. 

“ It  is  a ridiculous  attachment,  ” twittered  the  other 
Swallows,  4 she  has  no  money,  and  far  too  many 
relations  ” ; and  indeed  the  river  was  quite  full  of 
Reeds.  Then,  when  the  autumn  came,  they  all  flew 
away. 

After  they  had  gone  he  felt  lonely,  and  began  to  tire 
of  his  lady-love.  “ She  has  no  conversation,  ” he 
said,  “ and  I am  afraid  that  she  is  a coquette,  for  she 
is  always  flirting  with  the  wind.  ” And  certainly, 
whenever  the  wind  blew,  the  Reed  made  the  most 
graceful  curtsies.  “ 1 admit  that  she  is  domestic,  ” 


THE  HAPPY  PRINCE 


185 


he  continued,  “ but  I love  travelling,  and  my  wife, 
consequently,  should  love  travelling  also.  ” 

" Will  you  come  away  with  me  ? ” he  said  finally 
to  her;  but  the  Reed  shook  her  head,  she  was  so 
attached  to  her  home. 

“You  have  been  trifling  with  me,  ” he  cried;  “I 
am  off  to  the  Pyramids.  Good-bye  I ” and  he  flew 
away. 

All  day  long  he  flew,  and  at  night-time  he  arrived 
at  the  city.  “ Where  shall  I put  up?  ” he  said;  “ I 
hope  the  town  has  made  preparations.  ” 

Then  he  saw  the  statue  on  the  tall  column.  “ I 
will  put  up  there,”  he  cried;  “ it  is  a fine  position  with 
plenty  of  fresh  air.”  So  he  alighted  just  between  the 
feet  of  the  Happy  Prince. 

“ I have  a golden  bedroom,”  he  said  softly  to  himself 
as  he  looked  round,  and  he  prepared  to  go  to  sleep; 
but  just  as  he  was  putting  his  head  under  his  wing  a 
large  drop  of  water  fell  on  him.  “ What  a curious 
thing!  ” he  cried;  “ there  is  not  a single  cloud  in  the 
sky,  the  stars  are  quite  clear  and  bright,  and  yet 
it  is  raining.  The  climate  in  the  north  of  Europe  is 
really  dreadful.  The  Reed  used  to  like  the  rain,  but 
that  was  merely  her  selfishness.” 

Then  another  drop  fell. 

“ What  is  the  use  of  a statue  if  it  cannot  keep  the 
rain  off  ? ” he  said.  “ I must  look  for  a good  chimney- 
pot, ” and  he  determined  to  fly  away. 


186 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


But  before  he  had  opened  his  wings  a third  drop 
fell,  and  he  looked  up,  and  saw — Ah!  what  did  he 
see? 

The  eyes  of  the  Happy  Prince  were  filled  with  tears, 
and  tears  were  running  down  his  golden  cheeks.  His 
face  was  so  beautiful  in  the  moonlight  that  the  little 
Swallow  was  filled  with  pity. 

“ Who  are  you?”  he  said. 

“ I am  the  Happy  Prince.” 

“ Why  are  you  weeping  then?”  asked  the  Swallow; 
“ you  have  quite  drenched  me.” 

“ When  I was  alive  and  had  a human  heart,”  an- 
swered the  statue,  “ I did  not  know  what  tears  were, 
for  I lived  in  the  Palace  of  Sans-Souci,  where  sorrow 
is  not  allowed  to  enter.  In  the  daytime  I played  with 
my  companions  in  the  garden,  and  in  the  evening  I 
led  the  dance  in  the  Great  Hall.  Round  the  garden 
ran  a very  lofty  wall,  but  I never  cared  to  ask  what 
lay  beyond  it,  everything  about  me  was  so  beautiful. 
My  courtiers  called  me  the  Happy  Prince,  and  happy 
indeed  I was,  if  pleasure  be  happiness.  So  I lived, 
and  so  I died.  And  now  that  I am  dead  they  have 
set  me  up  here  so  high  that  I can  see  all  the  ugliness 
and  all  the  misery  of  my  city,  and  though  my  heart 
is  made  of  lead  yet  I cannot  choose  but  weep.” 

“What,  is  he  not  solid  gold?”  said  the  Swallow 
to  himself.  He  was  too  polite  to  make  any  personal 
remarks  out  loud. 


THE  HAPPY  PRINCE 


187 


“ Far  away,”  continued  the  statue  in  a low  musical 
voice,  “ far  away  in  a little  street  there  is  a poor  house. 
One  of  the  windows  is  open,  and  through  it  I can  see  a 
woman  seated  at  a table.  Her  face  is  thin  and  worn, 
and  she  has  coarse,  red  hands,  all  pricked  by  the 
needle,  for  she  is  a seamstress.  She  is  embroidering 
passion-flowers  on  a satin  gown  for  the  loveliest  of 
the  Queen’s  maids-of-honour  to  wear  at  the  next 
Court  ball.  In  a bed  in  the  corner  of  the  room  her 
little  boy  is  lying  ill.  He  has  a fever,  and  is  asking 
for  oranges.  His  mother  has  nothing  to  give  him  but 
river  water,  so  he  is  crying.  Swallow,  Swallow,  little 
Swallow,  will  you  not  bring  her  the  ruby  out  of  my 
sword-hilt?  My  feet  are  fastened  to  this  pedestal  and 
I cannot  move.” 

“ I am  waited  for  in  Egypt,  ” said  the  Swallow. 
“ My  friends  are  flying  up  and  down  the  Nile,  and 
talking  to  the  large  lotus-flowers.  Soon  they  will  go 
to  sleep  in  the  tomb  of  the  great  King.  The  King  is 
there  himself  in  his  painted  coffin.  He  is  wrapped 
in  yellow  linen  and  embalmed  with  spices.  Round 
his  neck  is  a chain  of  pale  green  jade,  and  his  hands 
are  like  withered  leaves.” 

“ Swallow,  Swallow,  little  Swallow,”  said  the 
Prince,  “ will  you  not  stay  with  me  for  one  night,  and 
be  my  messenger?  The  boy  is  so  thirsty  and  the 
mother  so  sad.” 

“ I don’t  think  I like  boys,”  answered  the  Swallow. 


188 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


“ Last  summer,  when  I was  staying  on  the  river,  there 
were  two  rude  boys,  the  miller’s  sons,  who  were  always 
throwing  stones  at  me.  They  never  hit  me,  of  course; 
we  swallows  fly  far  too  well  for  that,  and,  besides,  I 
come  of  a family  famous  for  its  agility;  but  still,  it 
was  a mark  of  disrespect.” 

But  the  Happy  Prince  looked  so  sad  that  the  little 
Swallow  was  sorry.  “ It  is  very  cold  here,”  he  said; 
“ but  I will  stay  with  you  for  one  night,  and  be  your 
messenger.” 

“ Thank  you,  little  Swallow,”  said  the  Prince. 

So  the  Swallow  picked  out  the  great  ruby  from 
the  Prince’s  sword,  and  flew  away  with  it  in  his  beak 
over  the  roofs  of  the  town. 

He  passed  by  the  cathedral  tower,  where  the  white 
marble  angels  were  sculptured.  He  passed  by  the 
palace  and  heard  the  sound  of  dancing.  A beautiful 
girl  came  out  on  the  balcony  with  her  lover.  “ How 
wonderful  the  stars  are,”  he  said  to  her,  “ and  how 
wonderful  is  the  power  of  love ! ” “I  hope  my  dress 
will  be  ready  in  time  for  the  State  ball,”  she  answered; 
“ I have  ordered  passion-flowers  to  be  embroidered  on 
it;  but  the  seamstresses  are  so  lazy.” 

He  passed  over  the  river,  and  saw  the  lanterns 
hanging  to  the  masts  of  the  ships.  He  passed  over  the 
Ghetto,  and  saw  the  old  Jews  bargaining  with  each 
other,  and  weighing  out  money  in  copper  scales.  At 
last  he  came  to  the  poor  house  and  looked  in.  The 


THE  IIAPPY  PRINCE 


189 


boy  was  tossing  feverishly  on  his  bed,  and  the  mother 
had  fallen  asleep,  she  was  so  tired.  In  he  hopped, 
and  laid  the  great  ruby  on  the  table  beside  the  woman’s 
thimble.  Then  he  flew  gently  round  the  bed,  fanning 
the  boy’s  forehead  with  his  wings.  “ How  cool  I 
feel,”  said  the  boy;  “ I must  be  getting  better,”  and  he 
sank  into  a delicious  slumber. 

Then  the  Swallow  flew  back  to  the  Happy  Prince, 
and  told  him  what  he  had  done.  “ It  is  curious,” 
he  remarked,  “ but  I feel  quite  warm  now,  although  it 
is  so  cold.” 

“ That  is  because  you  have  done  a good  action,” 
said  the  Prince.  And  the  little  Swallow  began  to 
think,  and  then  he  fell  asleep.  Thinking  always  made 
him  sleepy. 

When  day  broke  he  flew  down  to  the  river  and  had 
a bath.  “ What  a remarkable  phenomenon,”  said 
the  Professor  of  Ornithology  as  he  was  passing  over 
the  bridge.  “A  swallow  in  winter!”  And  he  wrote 
a long  letter  about  it  to  the  local  newspaper.  Every 
one  quoted  it,  it  was  full  of  so  many  words  that  they 
could  not  understand. 

“ Tonight  I go  to  Egypt,”  said  the  Swallow,  and 
he  was  in  high  spirits  at  the  prospect.  He  visited  all 
the  public  monuments,  and  sat  a long  time  on  top  of 
the  church  steeple.  Wherever  he  went  Sparrows 
chirruped,  and  said  to  each  other,  “ What  a distin- 
guished stranger ! ” so  he  enjoyed  himself  very  much. 


190 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


When  the  moon  rose  he  flew  back  to  the  Happy 
Prince.  “Have  you  any  commissions  for  Egypt?” 
he  cried.  “ I am  just  starting.” 

“ Swallow,  Swallow,  little  Swallow,”  said  the 
Prince,  “ will  you  not  stay  with  me  one  night  longer?” 
“ I am  waited  for  in  Egypt,”  answered  the  Swallow. 
“ Tomorrow  my  friends  will  fly  up  to  the  Second 
Cataract.  The  river-horse  couches  there  among  the 
bulrushes,  and  on  a great  granite  throne  sits  the  God 
Memnon.  All  night  long  he  watches  the  stars,  and 
when  the  morning  star  shines  he  utters  one  cry  of  joy, 
and  then  he  is  silent.  At  noon  the  yellow  lions  come 
down  to  the  water’s  edge  to  drink.  They  have  eyes 
like  green  beryls,  and  their  roar  is  louder  than  the  roar 
of  the  cataract.” 

“ Swallow,  Swallow,  little  Swallow,”  said  the  Prince, 
“ far  away  across  the  city  I see  a young  man  in  a 
garret.  He  is  leaning  over  a desk  covered  with  papers, 
and  in  a tumbler  by  his  side  there  is  a bunch  of  withered 
violets.  His  hair  is  brown  and  crisp,  and  his  lips  are 
red  as  a pomegranate,  and  he  has  large  and  dreamy 
eyes.  He  is  trying  to  finish  a play  for  the  Director 
of  the  Theatre,  but  he  is  too  cold  to  write  any  more. 
There  is  no  fire  in  the  grate,  and  hunger  has  made  him 
faint.” 

“ I will  wait  with  you  one  night  longer,”  said  the 
Swallow,  who  really  had  a good  heart.  “ Shall  I take 
him  another  ruby?” 


THE  HAPPY  PRINCE 


191 


“Alas!  I have  no  ruby  now,”  said  the  Prince; 
“ my  eyes  are  all  that  I have  left.  They  are  made  of 
rare  sapphires,  which  were  brought  out  of  India  a 
thousand  years  ago.  Pluck  out  one  of  them  and  take 
it  to  him.  He  will  sell  it  to  the  jeweller,  and  buy  food 
and  firewood,  and  finish  his  play.” 

“ Dear  Prince,”  said  the  Swallow,  “ I cannot  do 
that  ”;  and  he  began  to  weep. 

“ Swallow,  Swallow,  little  Swallow,”  said  the 
Prince,  “ do  as  I command  you.” 

So  the  Swallow  plucked  out  the  Prince’s  eye,  and 
flew  away  to  the  student’s  garret.  It  was  easy  enough 
to  get  in,  as  there  was  a hole  in  the  roof.  Through 
this  he  darted,  and  came  into  the  room.  The  young 
man  had  his  head  buried  in  his  hands,  so  he  did  not 
hear  the  flutter  of  the  bird’s  wings,  and  when  he  looked 
up  he  found  the  beautiful  sapphire  lying  on  the  withered 
violets. 

“I  am  beginning  to  be  appreciated,”  he  cried; 
“ this  is  from  some  great  admirer.  Now  I can  finish 
my  play,”  and  he  looked  quite  happy. 

The  next  day  the  Swallow  flew  down  to  the  harbour. 
He  sat  on  the  mast  of  a large  vessel  and  watched  the 
sailors  hauling  big  chests  out  of  the  hold  with  ropes. 
“ Heave  ahoy ! ” they  shouted  as  each  chest  came  up. 
“ I am  going  to  Egypt!  ” cried  the  Swallow,  but  nobody 
minded,  and  when  the  moon  rose  he  flew  back  to  the 
Happy  Prince. 


192 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


“ I am  come  to  bid  you  good-bye,”  he  cried. 

“ Swallow,  Swallow,  little  Swallow,”  said  the  Prince, 
“ will  you  not  stay  with  me  one  night  longer?  ” 

“ It  is  winter,”  answered  the  Swallow,  “ and  the 
chill  snow  will  soon  be  here.  In  Egypt  the  sun  is 
warm  on  the  green  palm-trees,  and  the  crocodiles  lie 
in  the  mud  and  look  lazily  about  them.  My  companions 
are  building  a nest  in  the  Temple  of  Baalbek,  and  the 
pink  and  white  doves  are  watching  them,  and  cooing 
to  each  other.  Dear  Prince,  I must  leave  you,  but 
I will  never  forget  you,  and  next  spring  I will  bring  you 
back  two  beautiful  jewels  in  place  of  those  you  have 
given  away.  The  ruby  shall  be  redder  than  a red 
rose,  and  the  sapphire  shall  be  as  blue  as  the  great 
sea.” 

“ In  the  square  below,”  said  the  Happy  Prince, 
“ there  stands  a little  match-girl.  She  has  let  her 
matches  fall  in  the  gutter,  and  they  are  all  spoiled. 
Her  father  will  beat  her  if  she  does  not  bring  home 
some  money,  and  she  is  crying.  She  has  no  shoes  or 
stockings,  and  her  little  head  is  bare.  Pluck  out  my 
other  eye,  and  give  it  to  her,  and  her  father  will  not 
beat  her.” 

“ I will  stay  with  you  one  night  longer,”  said  the 
Swallow,  “ but  I cannot  pluck  out  your  eye.  You 
would  be  quite  blind  then.” 

“ Swallow,  Swallow,  little  Swallow,”  said  the  Prince, 
“ do  as  I command  you.” 


THE  HAPPY  PRINCE 


193 


So  he  plucked  out  the  Prince’s  other  eye  and  darted 
down  with  it.  He  swooped  past  the  match-girl,  and 
slipped  the  jewel  into  the  palm  of  her  hand.  “ What 
a lovely  bit  of  glass,”  cried  the  little  girl;  and  she  ran 
home,  laughing. 

Then  the  Swallow  came  back  to  the  Prince.  “ You 
are  blind  now,”  he  said,  “ 'so  I will  stay  with  you 
always.” 

“ No,  little  Swallow,”  said  the  poor  Prince,  “ you 
must  go  away  to  Egypt.” 

“ I will  stay  with  you  always,”  said  the  Swallow, 
and  he  slept  at  the  Prince’s  feet. 

All  the  next  day  he  sat  on  the  Prince’s  shoulder, 
and  told  him  stories  of  what  he  had  seen  in  strange 
lands.  He  told  him  of  the  red  ibises,  who  stand  in 
long  rows  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile  and  catch  gold- 
fish in  their  beaks;  of  the  Sphinx,  who  is  as  old  as  the 
world  itself,  and  lives  in  the  desert,  and  knows  every- 
thing; of  the  merchants,  who  walk  slowly  by  the  side 
of  their  camels,  and  carry  amber  beads  in  their  hands; 
of  the  King  of  the  Mountains  of  the  Moon,  who  is  as 
black  as  ebony,  and  worships  a large  crystal;  of  the 
great  green  snake  that  sleeps  in  a palm-tree,  and  has 
twenty  priests  to  feed  it  with  honey-cakes,  and  of  the 
pygmies  who  sail  over  a big  lake  on  large  flat  leaves, 
and  are  always  at  war  with  the  butterflies. 

“ Dear  little  Swallow,”  said  the  Prince,  “ you  tell  me 
of  marvellous  things,  but  more  marvellous  than  any- 

N 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


194 

thing  is  the  suffering  of  men  and  of  women.  There  is 
no  Mystery  so  great  as  Misery.  Fly  over  my  city, 
little  Swallow,  and  tell  me  what  you  see  there.” 

So  the  Swallow  flew  over  the  great  city,  and  saw  the 
rich  making  merry  in  their  beautiful  houses,  while 
the  beggars  were  sitting  at  the  gates.  He  flew  into 
dark  lanes,  and  saw  the  white  faces  of  starving  children 
looking  out  listlessly  at  the  black  streets.  Under  the 
archway  of  a bridge  two  little  boys  were  lying  in  one 
another’s  arms  to  try  and  keep  themselves  warm. 
“ How  hungry  we  are  !”  they  said.  “ You  must  not 
lie  here,”  shouted  the  watchman,  and  they  wandered 
out  into  the  rain. 

Then  he  flew  back  and  told  the  Prince  what  he  had 
seen. 

“I  am  covered  with  fine  gold,”  said  the  Prince; 
“ you  must  take  it  off  leaf  by  leaf,  and  give  it  to  my 
poor;  the  living  always  think  that  gold  can  make  them 
happy.” 

Leaf  after  leaf  of  the  fine  gold  the  Swallow  picked 
off,  till  the  Happy  Prince  looked  quite  dull  and  grey. 
Leaf  after  leaf  of  the  fine  gold  he  brought  to  the  poor, 
and  the  children’s  faces  grew  rosier,  and  they  laughed 
and  played  games  in  the  street.  “ We  have  bread 
now!  ” they  cried. 

Then  the  snow  came,  and  after  the  snow  came 
the  frost.  The  streets  looked  as  if  they  were  made  of 
silver,  they  were  so  bright  and  glistening;  long  icicles 


THE  HAPPY  PRINCE 


195 


like  crystal  daggers  hung  down  from  the  eaves  of  the 
houses,  everybody  went  about  in  furs,  and  the  little 
boys  wore  scarlet  caps  and  skated  on  the  ice. 

The  poor  little  Swallow  grew  colder  and  colder,  but 
he  would  not  leave  the  Prince;  he  loved  him  too  well. 
He  picked  up  crumbs  outside  the  baker’s  door  when 
the  baker  was  not  looking,  and  tried  to  keep  himself 
warm  by  flapping  his  wings. 

But  at  last  he  knew  that  he  was  going  to  die.  He 
had  just  strength  to  fly  up  to  the  Prince’s  shoulder 
once  more.  “ Good-bye,  dear  Prince ! ” he  murmured. 
“ Will  you  let  me  kiss  your  hand?” 

“ I am  glad  that  you  are  going  to  Egypt  at  last, 
little  Swallow,”  said  the  Prince,  “ you  have  stayed 
too  long  here;  but  you  must  kiss  me  on  the  lips,  for  I 
love  you.” 

“ It  is  not  to  Egypt  that  I am  going,”  said  the  Swallow. 
“ I am  going  to  the  House  of  Death.  Death  is  the 
brother  of  Sleep,  is  he  not?” 

And  he  kissed  the  Happy  Prince  on  the  lips,  and 
fell  down  dead  at  his  feet. 

At  that  moment  a curious  crack  sounded  inside 
the  statue  as  if  something  had  broken.  The  fact 
is  that  the  leaden  heart  had  snapped  right  in  two. 
It  certainly  was  a dreadfully  hard  frost. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  Mayor  was  walking 
in  the  square  below  in  company  with  the  Town  Council- 
lors. As  they  passed  the  column  he  looked  up  at  the 


196 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


statue.  “ Dear  me!  how  shabby  the  Happy  Prince 
looks!  ” he  said. 

“ How  shabby  indeed!  ” cried  the  Town  Councillors, 
who  always  agreed  with  the  Mayor,  and  they  went 
up  to  look  at  it. 

“ The  ruby  has  fallen  out  of  his  sword,  his  eyes  are 
gone,  and  he  is  golden  no  longer,”  said  the  Mayor; 
“ in  fact  he  is  little  better  than  a beggar!  ” 

“ Little  better  than  a beggar,”  said  the  Town  Coun- 
cillors. 

“And  here  is  actually  a dead  bird  at  his  feet!” 
continued  the  Mayor.  “We  must  really  issue  a 
proclamation  that  birds  are  not  to  be  allowed  to  die 
here.”  And  the  Town  Clerk  made  a note  of  the 
suggestion. 

So  they  pulled  down  the  statue  of  the  Happy  Prince. 
“ As  he  is  no  longer  beautiful  he  is  no  longer  useful,” 
said  the  Art  Professor  at  the  University. 

Then  they  melted  the  statue  in  a furnace,  and  the 
Mayor  held  a meeting  of  the  Corporation  to  decide 
what  was  to  be  done  with  the  metal.  “We  must 
have  another  statue,  of  course,”  he  said,  “ and  it  shall 
be  a statue  of  myself.” 

“ Of  myself,”  said  each  of  the  Town  Councillors, 
and  they  quarrelled.  When  I last  heard  of  them  they 
were  quarrelling  still. 

“ What  a strange  thing!  ” said  the  overseer  of  the 
workmen  at  the  foundry.  “ This  broken  lead  heart 


THE  HAPrY  PRINCE 


197 


will  not  melt  in  the  furnace.  We  must  throw  it  away.” 
So  they  threw  it  on  a dust-heap  where  the  dead  Swallow 
was  also  lying. 

“ Bring  me  the  two  most  precious  things  in  the 
city,”  said  God  to  one  of  His  angels;  and  the  Angel 
brought  Him  the  leaden  heart  and  the  dead  bird. 

“ You  have  rightly  chosen,”  said  God,  “ for  in  my 
garden  of  Paradise  this  little  bird  shall  sing  forevermore, 
and  in  my  city  of  gold  the  Happy  Prince  shall  praise 


me.' 


THE  SELFISH  GIANT 


THE  SELFISH  GIANT 


EVERY  afternoon,  as  they  were  coming  from 
school,  the  children  used  to  go  and  play  in  the 
Giant’s  garden. 

It  was  a large  lovely  garden,  with  soft  green  grass. 
Here  and  there  over  the  grass  stood  beautiful  flowers 
like  stars,  and  there  were  twelve  peach-trees  that  in 
the  springtime  broke  out  into  delicate  blossoms  of 
pink  and  pearl,  and  in  the  autumn  bore  rich  fruit. 
The  birds  sat  on  the  trees  and  sang  so  sweetly  that 
the  children  used  to  stop  their  games  in  order  to 
listen  to  them.  “ How  happy  we  are  here ! ” they  cried 
to  each  other. 

One  day  the  Giant  came  back.  He  had  been  to 
visit  his  friend  the  Cornish  ogre,  and  had  stayed  with 
him  for  seven  years.  After  the  seven  years  were 
over  he  had  said  all  that  he  had  to  say,  for  his  conversa- 
tion was  limited,  and  he  determined  to  return  to  his 
own  castle.  When  he  arrived  he  saw  the  children 
playing  in  the  garden. 

“ What  are  you  doing  there?  ” he  cried  in  a very 
gruff  voice,  and  the  children  ran  away. 

“ My  own  garden  is  my  own  garden,”  said  the 

201 


202 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


Giant;  “ any  one  can  understand  that,  and  I will  allow 
nobody  to  play  in  it  but  myself.,,  So  he  built  a high 
wall  all  round  it,  and  put  up  a notice-board: 


TRESPASSERS 
WILL  BE 
PROSECUTED 


He  was  a very  selfish  giant. 

The  poor  children  had  now  nowhere  to  play.  They 
tried  to  play  on  the  road,  but  the  road  was  very  dusty 
and  full  of  hard  stones,  and  they  did  not  like  it.  They 
used  to  wander  round  the  high  wall  when  their  lessons 
were  over,  and  talk  about  the  beautiful  garden  inside. 
“ How  happy  we  were  there,”  they  said  to  each  other. 

Then  the  Spring  came,  and  all  over  the  country 
there  were  little  blossoms  and  little  birds.  Only 
in  the  garden  of  the  Selfish  Giant  it  was  still  winter. 
The  birds  did  not  care  to  sing  in  it,  as  there  were  no 
children,  and  the  trees  forgot  to  blossom.  Once  a 
beautiful  flower  put  its  head  out  from  the  grass,  but 
when  it  saw  the  notice-board  it  was  so  sorry  for  the 
children  that  it  slipped  back  into  the  ground  again,  and 
went  off  to  sleep.  The  only  people  who  were  pleased 
were  the  Snow  and  the  Frost.  “ Spring  has  forgotten 
this  garden,”  they  cried,  “ so  we  will  live  here  all 


THE  SELFISH  GIANT 


203 


the  year  round.”  The  Snow  covered  up  the  grass 
with  her  great  white  cloak,  and  the  Frost  painted  all 
the  trees  silver.  Then  they  invited  the  North  Wind 
to  stay  with  them,  and  he  came.  He  was  wrapped 
in  furs,  and  he  roared  all  day  about  the  garden,  and 
blew  the  chimney-pots  down.  “ This  is  a delightful 
spot,”  he  said;  “we  must  ask  the  Hail  on  a visit.” 
So  the  Hail  came.  Every  day  for  three  hours  he  rattled 
on  the  roof  of  the  castle  till  he  broke  most  of  the 
slates,  and  then  he  ran  round  and  round  the  garden 
as  fast  as  he  could  go.  He  was  dressed  in  grey,  and 
his  breath  was  like  ice. 

“ I cannot  understand  why  the  Spring  is  so  late  in 
coming,”  said  the  Selfish  Giant,  as  he  sat  at  the  window 
and  looked  out  at  his  cold  white  garden;  “ I hope  there 
will  be  a change  in  the  weather.” 

But  the  Spring  never  came,  nor  the  Summer.  The 
Autumn  gave  golden  fruit  to  every  garden,  but  to 
the  Giant’s  garden  she  gave  none.  “ He  is  too  selfish,” 
she  said.  So  it  was  always  Winter  there,  and  the 
North  Wind,  and  the  Hail,  and  the  Frost,  and  the 
Snow  danced  about  through  the  trees. 

One  morning  the  Giant  was  lying  awake  in  bed 
when  he  heard  some  lovely  music.  It  sounded  so 
sweet  to  his  ears  that  he  thought  it  must  be  the  King’s 
musicians  passing  by.  It  was  really  only  a little 
linnet  singing  outside  his  window,  but  it  was  so  long 
since  he  had  heard  a bird  sing  in  his  garden  that  it 


204 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


seemed  to  him  to  be  the  most  beautiful  music  in  the 
world.  Then  the  Hail  stopped  dancing  over  his  head, 
and  the  North  Wind  ceased  roaring,  and  a delicious 
perfume  came  to  him  through  the  open  casement. 
“ I believe  the  Spring  has  come  at  last,”  said  the  Giant, 
and  he  jumped  out  of  bed  and  looked  out. 

What  did  he  see? 

He  saw  a most  wonderful  sight.  Through  a little 
hole  in  the  wall  the  children  had  crept  in,  and  they 
were  sitting  in  the  branches  of  the  trees.  In  every 
tree  that  he  could  see  there  was  a little  child.  And 
the  trees  were  so  glad  to  have  the  children  back  again 
that  they  had  covered  themselves  with  blossoms, 
and  were  waving  their  arms  gently  above  the  children’s 
heads.  The  birds  were  flying  about  and  twittering 
with  delight,  and  the  flowers  were  looking  up  through 
the  green  grass  and  laughing.  It  was  a lovely  scene, 
only  in  one  corner  it  was  still  winter.  It  was  the 
farthest  corner  of  the  garden,  and  in  it  was  standing  a 
little  boy.  He  was  so  small  that  he  could  not  reach 
up  to  the  branches  of  the  tree,  and  he  was  wandering 
all  round  it,  crying  bitterly.  The  poor  tree  was  still 
quite  covered  with  frost  and  snow,  and  the  North 
Wind  was  blowing  and  roaring  above  it.  “ Climb 
up!  little  boy,”  said  the  Tree,  and  it  bent  its  branches 
down  as  low  as  it  could ; but  the  boy  was  too  tiny. 

And  the  Giant’s  heart  melted  as  he  looked  out. 
“ How  selfish  I have  been!  ” he  said;  “ now  I know 


TIIE  SELFISH  GIANT 


205 


why  the  Spring  would  not  come  here.  I will  put  that 
poor  little  boy  on  the  top  of  the  tree,  and  then  I will 
knock  down  the  wall,  and  my  garden  shall  be  the 
children’s  playground  for  ever  and  ever.”  He  was 
really  very  sorry  for  what  he  had  done. 

So  he  crept  down-stairs  and  opened  the  front  door 
quite  softly,  and  went  out  into  the  garden.  But  when 
the  children  saw  him  they  were  so  frightened  that  they 
all  ran  away,  and  the  garden  became  winter  again. 
Only  the  little  boy  did  not  run,  for  his  eyes  were  so  full 
of  tears  that  he  did  not  see  the  Giant  coming.  And 
the  Giant  strode  up  behind  him  and  took  him  gently 
in  his  hand,  and  put  him  up  into  the  tree.  And 
the  tree  broke  at  once  into  blossom,  and  the  birds 
came  and  sang  on  it,  and  the  little  boy  stretched  out 
his  two  arms  and  flung  them  round  the  Giant’s  neck, 
and  kissed  him.  And  the  other  children,  when  they 
saw  that  the  Giant  was  not  wicked  any  longer,  came 
running  back,  and  with  them  came  the  Spring.  “ It 
is  your  garden  now,  little  children,”  said  the  Giant, 
and  he  took  a great  axe  and  knocked  down  the 
wall.  And  when  the  people  were  going  to  market 
at  twelve  o’clock  they  found  the  Giant  playing  with 
the  children  in  the  most  beautiful  garden  they  had 
ever  seen. 

All  day  long  they  played,  and  in  the  evening  they 
came  to  the  Giant  to  bid  him  good-bye. 

“ But  where  is  your  little  companion?  ” he  said, 


206 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


“ the  boy  I put  into  the  tree.”  The  Giant  loved  him 
the  best  because  he  had  kissed  him. 

“We  don’t  know,”  answered  the  children;  “he 
has  gone  away.” 

“ You  must  tell  him  to  be  sure  and  come  here  to- 
morrow,” said  the  Giant.  But  the  children  said  that 
they  did  not  know  where  he  lived,  and  had  never 
seen  him  before;  and  the  Giant  felt  very  sad. 

Every  afternoon,  when  school  was  over,  the  children 
came  and  played  with  the  Giant.  But  the  little  boy 
whom  the  Giant  loved  was  never  seen  again.  The 
Giant  was  very  kind  to  all  the  children,  yet  he  longed 
for  his  first  little  friend,  and  often  spoke  of  him.  “ How 
I would  like  to  see  him!  ” he  used  to  say. 

Years  went  over,  and  the  Giant  grew  very  old  and 
feeble.  He  could  not  play  about  any  more,  so  he  sat 
in  a huge  armchair,  and  watched  the  children  at  their 
games,  and  admired  his  garden.  “ I have  many 
beautiful  flowers,”  he  said;  “ but  the  children  are  the 
most  beautiful  flowers  of  all.” 

One  winter  morning  he  looked  out  of  his  window 
as  he  was  dressing.  He  did  not  hate  the  Winter  now, 
for  he  knew  that  it  was  merely  Spring  asleep,  and 
that  the  flowers  were  resting! 

Suddenly  he  rubbed  his  eyes  in  wonder,  and  looked 
and  looked.  It  certainly  was  a marvellous  sight. 
In  the  farthest  corner  of  the  garden  was  a tree  quite 
covered  with  lovely  white  blossoms.  Its  branches 


THE  SELFISH  GIANT 


207 


were  all  golden,  and  silver  fruit  hung  down  from  them, 
and  underneath  it  stood  the  little  boy  he  had  loved. 

Down-stairs  ran  the  Giant  in  great  joy,  and  out 
into  the  garden.  He  hastened  across,  and  came 
near  to  the  child.  And  when  he  came  quite  close  his 
face  grew  red  with  anger,  and  he  said,  “ Who  hath 
dared  to  wound  thee?  ” For  on  the  palms  of  the 
child’s  hands  were  the  prints  of  two  nails,  and  the 
prints  of  two  nails  were  on  the  little  feet. 

“ Who  hath  dared  to  wound  thee?  ” cried  the 
Giant;  “ tell  me,  that  I may  take  my  big  sword  and 
slay  him.” 

“Nay!”  answered  the  child;  “but  these  are  the 
wounds  of  Love.” 

“ Who  art  thou?  ” said  the  Giant,  and  a strange  awe 
fell  on  him,  and  he  knelt  before  the  little  child. 

And  the  child  smiled  on  the  Giant,  and  said  to  him, 
“ You  let  me  play  once  in  your  garden;  today  you  shall 
come  with  me  to  my  garden,  which  is  Paradise.” 

And  when  the  children  ran  in  that  afternoon,  they 
found  the  Giant  lying  dead  under  the  tree,  all  covered 
with  white  blossoms. 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  AND  THE  ROSE 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  AND  THE  ROSE 


“ HE  said  that  she  would  dance  with  me  if  I brought 


her  red  roses,”  cried  the  young  Student;  “ but 


in  all  my  garden  there  is  no  red  rose.” 

From  her  nest  in  the  Holm-oak  tree  the  Nightingale 
heard  him,  and  she  looked  out  through  the  leaves, 
and  wondered. 

“ No  red  rose  in  all  my  garden!  ” he  cried,  and  his 
beautiful  eyes  filled  with  tears.  “ Ah,  on  what  little 
things  does  happiness  depend,  I have  read  all  that  the 
wise  men  have  written  and  all  the  secrets  of  philosophy 
are  mine,  yet  for  want  of  a red  rose  is  my  life  made 
wretched.” 

“ Here  at  last  is  a true  lover,”  said  the  Nightingale. 
" Night  after  night  have  I sung  of  him,  though  I knew 
him  not;  night  after  night  have  I told  his  story  to  the 
stars,  and  now  I see  him.  His  hair  is  dark  as  the 
hyacinth-blossom,  and  his  lips  are  red  as  the  rose  of 
his  desire;  but  passion  has  made  his  face  like  pale 
ivory,  and  sorrow  has  set  her  seal  upon  his  brow.” 

“ The  Prince  gives  a ball  tomorrow  night,”  mur- 
mured the  young  Student,  “ and  my  love  will  be  of  the 


211 


212 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


company.  If  I bring  her  a red  rose  she  will  dance  with 
me  till  dawn.  If  I bring  her  a red  rose,  I shall  hold  her 
in  my  arms,  and  she  will  lean  her  head  upon  my 
shoulder,  and  her  hand  will  be  clasped  in  mine.  But 
there  is  no  red  rose  in  my  garden,  so  I shall  sit  lonely, 
and  she  will  pass  me  by.  She  will  have  no  heed  of 
me,  and  my  heart  will  break.” 

“ Here  indeed  is  the  true  lover,”  said  the  Nightingale. 
“ What  I sing  of,  he  suffers;  what  is  joy  to  me,  to  him 
is  pain.  Surely  Love  is  a wonderful  thing.  It  is  more 
precious  than  emeralds,  and  dearer  than  fine  opals. 
Pearls  and  pomegranates  cannot  buy  it,  nor  is  it  set 
forth  in  the  market-place.  It  may  not  be  purchased 
of  the  merchants,  nor  can  it  be  weighed  out  in  the 
balance  for  gold.” 

u The  musicians  will  sit  in  their  gallery,”  said 
the  young  Student,  “ and  play  upon  their  stringed 
instruments,  and  my  love  will  dance  to  the  sound  of 
the  harp  and  the  violin.  She  will  dance  so  lightly 
that  her  feet  will  not  touch  the  floor,  and  the  courtiers 
in  their  gay  dresses  will  throng  round  her.  But  with 
me  she  will  not  dance,  for  I have  no  red  rose  to  give 
her”  ; and  he  flung  himself  down  on  the  grass,  and 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  wept. 

“ Why  is  he  weeping?  ” asked  a little  Green  Lizard, 
as  he  ran  past  him  with  his  tail  in  the  air. 

“ Why,  indeed?  ” said  a Butterfly,  who  was  fluttering 
after  a sunbeam. 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  AND  THE  ROSE  213 


“ Why,  indeed?  ” whispered  a Daisy  to  his  neighbour, 
in  a soft,  low  voice. 

“ He  is  weeping  for  a red  rose,”  said  the  Nightingale. 

“ For  a red  rose ! ” they  cried ; “ how  very  ridiculous !” 
and  the  Lizard,  who  was  something  of  a cynic,  laughed 
outright. 

But  the  Nightingale  understood  the  secret  of  the 
Student’s  sorrow,  and  she  sat  silent  in  the  Oak-tree, 
and  thought  about  the  mystery  of  love. 

Suddenly  she  spread  her  brown  wings  for  flight 
and  soared  into  the  air.  She  passed  through  the 
grove  like  a shadow,  and  like  a shadow  she  sailed 
across  the  garden. 

In  the  centre  of  the  grass-plot  was  standing  a beauti- 
ful Rose-tree,  and  when  she  saw  it  she  flew  over  to 
it,  and  lit  upon  a spray. 

“ Give  me  a red  rose,”  she  cried,  “ and  I will  sing 
you  my  sweetest  song.” 

But  the  Tree  shook  its  head. 

“ My  roses  are  white,”  it  answered;  “ as  white  as 
the  foam  of  the  sea  and  whiter  than  the  snow  upon  the 
mountain.  But  go  to  my  brother  who  grows  round  the 
old  sun-dial,  and  perhaps  he  will  give  what  you  want.” 

So  the  Nightingale  flew  over  to  the  Rose-tree  that 
was  growing  round  the  old  sun-dial. 

“ Give  me  a red  rose,”  she  cried,  “and  I will  sing 
you  my  sweetest  song.” 

But  the  Tree  shook  its  head. 


214 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


“ My  roses  are  yellow,”  it  answered;  “ as  yellow 
as  the  hair  of  the  mermaiden  who  sits  upon  an  amber 
throne,  and  yellower  than  the  daffodil  that  blooms  in 
the  meadow  before  the  mower  comes  with  his  scythe. 
But  go  to  my  brother  who  grows  beneath  the  Student’s 
window,  and  perhaps  he  will  give  you  what  you  want.” 
So  the  Nightingale  flew  over  to  the  Rose-tree  that 
was  growing  beneath  the  Student’s  window. 

“ Give  me  a red  rose,”  she  cried,  “ and  I will  sing 
you  my  sweetest  song.” 

But  the  Tree  shook  its  head. 

“My  roses  are  red,”  it  answered,  “as  red  as  the 
feet  of  the  dove,  and  redder  than  the  great  fans  of 
coral  that  wave  and  wave  in  the  ocean-cavern.  But 
the  winter  has  chilled  my  veins,  and  the  frost  has 
nipped  my  buds,  and  the  storm  has  broken  my  branches, 
and  I shall  have  no  roses  at  all  this  year.” 

“ One  red  rose  is  all  I want,”  cried  the  Nightingale, 
“ only  one  red  rose!  Is  there  no  way  by  which  I can 
get  it?  ” 

“ There  is  a way,”  answered  the  Tree;  “ but  it  is 
so  terrible  that  I dare  not  tell  it  to  you.” 

“ Tell  it  to  me,”  said  the  Nightingale;  “ I am  not 
afraid.” 

“ If  you  want  a red  rose,”  said  the  Tree,  “ you 
must  build  it  out  of  music  by  moonlight,  and  stain  it 
with  your  own  heart’s-blood.  You  must  sing  to  me 
with  your  breast  against  a thorn.  All  night  long  you 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  AND  THE  ROSE  215 


must  sing  to  me,  and  the  thorn  must  pierce  your 
heart,  and  your  life-blood  must  flow  into  my  veins, 
and  become  mine.,, 

“ Death  is  a great  price  to  pay  for  a red  rose,”  cried 
the  Nightingale,  “ and  Life  is  very  dear  to  all.  It  is 
pleasant  to  sit  in  the  green  wood,  and  to  watch  the  Sun 
in  his  chariot  of  gold,  and  the  Moon  in  her  chariot  of 
pearl.  Sweet  is  the  scent  of  the  hawthorn,  and  sweet 
are  the  bluebells  that  hide  in  the  valley,  and  the 
heather  that  blows  on  the  hill.  Yet  love  is  better 
than  Life,  and  what  is  the  heart  of  a bird  compared 
to  the  heart  of  a man?  ” 

So  she  spread  her  brown  wings  for  flight,  and  soared 
into  the  air.  She  swept  over  the  garden  like  a shadow, 
and  like  a shadow  she  sailed  through  the  grove. 

The  young  Student  was  still  lying  on  the  grass, 
where  she  had  left  him,  and  the  tears  were  not  yet 
dry  in  his  beautiful  eyes. 

“ Be  happy,”  cried  the  Nightingale,  “ be  happy; 
you  shall  have  your  red  rose.  I will  build  it  out  of 
music  by  moonlight,  and  stain  it  with  my  own  heart’s- 
blood.  All  that  I ask  of  you  in  return  is  that  you  will 
be  a true  lover,  for  Love  is  wiser  than  Philosophy, 
though  she  is  wise,  and  mightier  than  Power,  though 
he  is  mighty.  Flame-coloured  are  his  wings,  and 
coloured  like  flame  is  his  body.  His  lips  are  sweet 
as  honey,  and  his  breath  is  like  frankincense.” 

The  Student  looked  up  from  the  grass,  and  listened, 


216 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


but  he  could  not  understand  what  the  Nightingale 
was  saying  to  him,  for  he  only  knew  the  things  that 
are  written  down  in  books. 

But  the  Oak-tree  understood,  and  felt  sad,  for  he 
was  very  fond  of  the  little  Nightingale  who  had  built 
her  nest  in  his  branches. 

“ Sing  me  one  last  song,”  he  whispered;  “ I shall 
feel  very  lonely  when  you  are  gone.” 

So  the  Nightingale  sang  to  the  Oak-tree,  and  her 
voice  was  like  water  bubbling  from  a silver  jar. 

When  she  had  finished  her  song,  the  Student  got 
up,  and  pulled  a note-book  and  a lead-pencil  out  of 
his  pocket. 

“ She  has  form,”  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  walked 
away  through  the  grove — “ that  cannot  be  denied  to 
her;  but  has  she  got  feeling?  I am  afraid  not.  In 
fact,  she  is  like  most  artists;  she  is  all  style,  without 
any  sincerity.  She  would  not  sacrifice  herself  for 
others.  She  thinks  merely  of  music,  and  everybody 
knows  that  the  arts  are  selfish.  Still,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  she  has  some  beautiful  notes  in  her 
voice.  What  a pity  it  is  that  they  do  not  mean  any- 
thing, or  do  any  practical  good.”  And  he  went  into  his 
room,  and  lay  down  on  his  little  pallet-bed,  and  began 
to  think  of  his  love;  and,  after  a time,  he  fell  asleep. 

And  when  the  Moon  shone  in  the  heavens  the 
Nightingale  flew  to  the  Rose-tree,  and  set  her  breast 
against  the  thorn.  All  night  long  she  sang  with  her 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  AND  THE  ROSE  217 


breast  against  the  thorn,  and  the  cold  crystal  Moon 
leaned  down  and  listened.  All  night  long  she  sang, 
and  the  thorn  went  deeper  and  deeper  into  her  breast, 
and  her  life-blood  ebbed  away  from  her. 

She  sang  first  of  the  birth  of  love  in  the  heart  of  a 
boy  and  a girl.  And  on  the  topmost  spray  of  the 
Rose-tree  there  blossomed  a marvellous  rose,  petal 
following  petal,  as  song  followed  song.  Pale  was  it,  at 
first,  as  the  mist  that  hangs  over  the  river — pale  as 
the  feet  of  the  morning,  and  silver  as  the  wings  of 
the  dawn.  As  the  shadow  of  a rose  in  a mirror  of 
silver,  as  the  shadow  of  a rose  in  a water-pool,  so 
was  the  rose  that  blossomed  on  the  topmost  spray  of 
the  Tree. 

But  the  Tree  cried  to  the  Nightingale  to  press 
closer  against  the  thorn.  “ Press  closer,  little  Nightin- 
gale,” cried  the  Tree,  “ or  the  Day  will  come  before 
the  rose  is  finished.” 

So  the  Nightingale  pressed  closer  against  the  thorn, 
and  louder  and  louder  grew  her  song,  for  she  sang 
of  the  birth  of  passion  in  the  soul  of  a man  and  a maid. 

And  a delicate  flush  of  pink  came  into  the  leaves 
of  the  rose,  like  the  flush  in  the  face  of  the  bridegroom 
when  he  kisses  the  lips  of  the  bride.  But  the  thorn 
had  not  yet  reached  her  heart,  so  the  rose’s  heart 
remained  white,  for  only  a Nightingale’s  heart-blood 
can  crimson  the  heart  of  a rose. 

And  the  Tree  cried  to  the  Nightingale  to  press  closer 


218 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


against  the  thorn.  “ Press  closer,  little  Nightingale,” 
cried  the  Tree,  “ or  the  Day  will  come  before  the  rose 
is  finished.,, 

So  the  Nightingale  pressed  closer  against  the  thorn, 
and  the  thorn  touched  her  heart,  and  a fierce  pang  of 
pain  shot  through  her.  Bitter,  bitter  was  the  pain, 
and  wilder  and  wilder  grew  her  song,  for  she  sang  of 
the  Love  that  is  perfected  by  Death,  of  the  Love  that 
dies  not  in  the  tomb. 

And  the  marvellous  rose  became  crimson,  like  the 
rose  of  the  eastern  sky.  Crimson  was  the  girdle  of 
petals,  and  crimson  as  a ruby  was  the  heart. 

But  the  Nightingale’s  voice  grew  fainter,  and  her 
little  wings  began  to  beat,  and  a film  came  over  her 
eyes.  Fainter  and  fainter  grew  her  song,  and  she 
felt  something  choking  her  in  her  throat. 

Then  she  gave  one  last  burst  of  music.  The  white 
Moon  heard  it,  and  she  forgot  the  dawn,  and  lingered 
on  in  the  sky.  The  red  rose  heard  it,  and  it  trembled 
all  over  with  ecstasy,  and  opened  its  petals  to  the  cold 
morning  air.  Echo  bore  it  to  her  purple  cavern  in 
the  hills,  and  woke  the  sleeping  shepherds  from  their 
dreams.  It  floated  through  the  reeds  of  the  river, 
and  they  carried  its  message  to  the  sea. 

“ Look,  look!  ” cried  the  Tree,  “ the  rose  is  finished 
now  ” ; but  the  Nightingale  made  no  answer,  for  she 
was  lying  dead  in  the  long  grass,  with  the  thorn  in  her 
heart. 


THE  NIGHTINGALE  AND  THE  ROSE  219 


And  at  noon  the  Student  opened  his  window  and 
looked  out. 

“ Why,  what  a wonderful  piece  of  luck ! ” he  cried ; 
“ here  is  a red  rose!  I have  never  seen  any  rose 
like  it  in  all  my  life.  It  is  so  beautiful  that  I am  sure 
that  it  has  a long  Latin  name  ” ; and  he  leaned  down 
and  plucked  it. 

Then  he  put  on  his  hat,  and  ran  up  to  the  Professor’s 
house  with  the  rose  in  his  hand. 

The  daughter  of  the  Professor  was  sitting  in  the  door- 
way winding  blue  silk  on  a reel,  and  her  little  dog  was 
lying  at  her  feet. 

“ You  said  that  you  would  dance  with  me  if  I brought 
you  a red  rose,”  cried  the  Student.  “ Here  is  the 
reddest  rose  in  all  the  world.  You  will  wear  it  tonight 
next  your  heart,  and  as  we  dance  together  it  will  tell 
you  how  I love  you.” 

But  the  girl  frowned. 

“ I am  afraid  it  will  not  go  with  my  dress,”  she 
answered;  “ and,  besides,  the  Chamberlain’s  nephew 
sent  me  some  real  jewels,  and  everybody  knows  that 
jewels  cost  far  more  than  flowers.” 

“ Well,  upon  my  word,  you  are  very  ungrateful,” 
said  the  Student  angrily;  and  he  threw  the  rose  into 
the  street,  where  it  fell  into  the  gutter,  and  a cart- 
wheel went  over  it. 

“Ungrateful!”  said  the  girl.  “I  tell  you  what, 
you  are  very  rude;  and  after  all,  who  are  you?  Only 


220 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


a Student.  Why,  I don’t  believe  you  have  even  got 
silver  buckles  to  your  shoes  as  the  Chamberlain’s 
nephew  has  ” ; and  she  got  up  from  her  chair  and 
went  into  the  house. 

“ What  a silly  thing  Love  is,”  said  the  Student 
as  he  walked  away.  “ It  is  not  half  as  useful  as  Logic, 
for  it  does  not  prove  anything,  and  it  is  always  telling 
one  of  things  that  are  not  going  to  happen,  and  making 
one  believe  things  that  are  not  true.  In  fact,  it  is 
quite  unpractical,  and,  as  in  this  age  to  be  practical  is 
everything,  I shall  go  back  to  Philosophy  and  study 
Metaphysics.” 

So  he  returned  to  his  room  and  pulled  out  a great 
dusty  book,  and  began  to  read. 


THE  DEVOTED  FRIEND 


THE  DEVOTED  FRIEND 


NE  morning  the  old  Water-rat  put  his  head  out 


of  his  hole.  He  had  bright  beady  eyes  and  stiff 


grey  whiskers,  and  his  tail  was  like  a long  bit  of  black 
india-rubber.  The  little  ducks  were  swimming  about 
in  the  pond,  looking  just  like  a lot  of  yellow  canaries, 
and  their  mother,  who  was  pure  white  with  real  red 
legs,  was  trying  to  teach  them  how  to  stand  on  their 
heads  in  the  water. 

“ You  will  never  be  in  the  best  society  unless  you 
can  stand  on  your  heads,”  she  kept  saying  to  them; 
and  every  now  and  then  she  showed  them  how  it  was 
done.  But  the  little  ducks  paid  no  attention  to  her. 
They  were  so  young  that  they  did  not  know  what  an 
advantage  it  is  to  be  in  society  at  all. 

“ What  disobedient  children!  ” cried  the  old  Water- 
rat;  “ they  really  deserve  to  be  drowned.” 

“ Nothing  of  the  kind,”  answered  the  Duck;  “ every 
one  must  make  a beginning,  and  parents  cannot  be  too 
patient.” 

“ Ah ! I know  nothing  about  the  feelings  of  parents,” 
said  the  Water-rat;  “I  am  not  a family  man.  In 
fact,  I have  never  been  married,  and  I never  intend  to 


223 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


224 


be.  Love  is  all  very  well  in  its  way,  but  friendship  is 
much  higher.  Indeed,  I know  of  nothing  in  the  world 
that  is  either  nobler  or  rarer  than  a devoted  friend- 
ship.” 

“ And  what,  pray,  is  your  idea  of  the  duties  of  a 
devoted  friend  ? ” asked  a Green  Linnet,  who  was  sitting 
in  a willow-tree  hard  by,  and  had  overheard  the 
conversation. 

“ Yes,  that  is  just  what  I want  to  know,”  said  the 
Duck,  and  she  swam  away  to  the  end  of  the  pond,  and 
stood  upon  her  head,  in  order  to  give  her  children  a 
good  example. 

“ What  a silly  question!”  cried  the  Water-rat. 
“ I should  expect  my  devoted  friend  to  be  devoted  to 
me,  of  course.” 

“ And  what  would  you  do  in  return?”  said  the  little 
bird,  swinging  upon  a silver  spray,  and  flapping  his 
tiny  wings. 

“ I don’t  understand  you,”  answered  the  Water- 
rat. 

“ Let  me  tell  you  a story  on  the  subject,”  said  the 
Linnet. 

“ Is  the  story  about  me?”  asked  the  Water-rat. 
€t  If  so,  I will  listen  to  it,  for  I am  extremely  fond  of 
fiction.” 

“ It  is  applicable  to  you,”  answered  the  Linnet; 
and  he  flew  down,  and  alighting  upon  the  bank,  he 
told  the  story  of  The  Devoted  Friend. 


THE  DEVOTED  FRIEND 


225 


“ Once  upon  a time,”  said  the  Linnet,  “ there  was  an 
honest  little  fellow  earned  Hans.” 

“ Was  ue  very  distinguished?”  asked  the  Water-rat, 
4 No,”  answered  the  Linnet,  “ I don’t  think  he  was 
distinguished  at  all,  except  for  his  kind  heart,  and  his 
funny  round  good-humoured  face.  He  lived  in  a tiny 
cottage  all  by  himself,  and  every  day  he  worked  in 
his  garden.  In  all  the  countryside  there  was  no 
garden  so  lovely  as  his.  Sweet-william  grew  there, 
and  Gilly-flowers,  and  Shepherds’-purses,  and  Fair- 
maids  of  France.  There  were  damask  Roses,  and 
yellow  Roses,  lilac  Crocuses  and  gold,  purple  Violets 
and  white.  Columbine  and  Lady-smock,  Marjoram 
and  Wild  Basil,  the  Cowslip  and  the  Flower-de-luce, 
the  Daffodil  and  the  Clove-Pink  bloomed  or  blossomed 
in  their  proper  order  as  the  months  went  by,  one  flower 
taking  another  flower’s  place,  so  that  there  were  always 
beautiful  things  to  look  at,  and  pleasant  odours  to 
smell. 

“ Little  Hans  had  a great  many  friends,  but  the 
most  devoted  friend  of  all  was  big  Hugh  the  Miller. 
Indeed,  so  devoted  was  the  rich  Miller  to  little  Hans, 
that  he  would  never  go  by  his  garden  without  leaning 
over  the  wall  and  plucking  a large  nosegay,  or  a handful 
of  sweet  herbs,  or  filling  his  pockets  with  plums  and 
cherries  if  it  was  the  fruit  season. 

“ 1 Real  friends  should  have  everything  in  common,’ 
the  Miller  used  to  say,  and  little  Hans  nodded  and 
p 


226 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


smiled,  and  felt  very  proud  of  having  a friend  with 
such  noble  ideas. 

“ Sometimes,  indeed,  the  neighbours  thought  it 
strange  that  the  rich  Miller  never  gave  little  Hans 
anything  in  return,  though  he  had  a hundred  sacks  of 
flour  stored  away  in  his  mill,  and  six  milch-cows,  and 
a large  flock  of  woolly  sheep;  but  Hans  never  troubled 
his  head  about  these  things,  and  nothing  gave  him 
greater  pleasure  than  to  listen  to  all  the  wonderful 
things  the  Miller  used  to  say  about  the  unselfishness 
of  true  friendship. 

“ So  little  Hans  worked  away  in  his  garden.  During 
the  spring,  the  summer,  and  the  autumn  he  was  very 
happy,  but  when  the  winter  came,  and  he  had  no 
fruit  or  flowers  to  bring  to  the  market,  he  suffered  a 
good  deal  from  cold  and  hunger,  and  often  had  to 
go  to  bed  without  any  supper  but  a few  dried  pears 
or  some  hard  nuts.  In  the  winter,  also,  he  was  ex- 
tremely lonely,  as  the  Miller  never  came  to  see  him 
then. 

“ * There  is  no  good  in  my  going  to  see  little  Hans  as 
long  as  the  snow  lasts,’  the  Miller  used  to  say  to  his 
wife,  ‘ for  when  people  are  in  trouble  they  should  be 
left  alone,  and  not  be  bothered  by  visitors.  That  at  least 
is  my  idea  about  friendship,  and  I am  sure  I am  right. 
So  I shall  wait  till  the  spring  comes,  and  then  I shall 
pay  him  a visit,  and  he  will  be  able  to  give  me  a large 
basket  of  primroses,  and  that  will  make  him  so  happy.’ 


THE  DEVOTED  FRIEND 


227 


“ ‘ You  are  certainly  very  thoughtful  about  others/ 
answered  the  Wife,  as  she  sat  in  her  comfortable 
armchair  by  the  big  pinewood  fire;  ‘very  thoughtful 
indeed.  It  is  quite  a treat  to  hear  you  talk  about 
friendship.  I am  sure  the  clergyman  himself  could 
not  say  such  beautiiul  things  as  you  do,  though  he  does 
live  in  a three-storied  house,  and  wears  a gold  ring  on 
his  little  finger.’ 

“ ‘ But  could  we  not  ask  little  Hans  up  here?’  said  the 
Miller’s  youngest  son.  ‘ If  poor  Hans  is  in  trouble  I will 
give  him  half  my  porridge,  and  show  him  my  white 
rabbits.’ 

“‘What  a silly  boy  you  are!’  cried  the  Miller; 
‘ I really  don’t  know  what  is  the  use  of  sending  you  to 
school.  You  seem  not  to  learn  anything.  Why,  if 
little  Hans  came  up  here,  and  saw  our  warm  fire  and 
our  good  supper  and  our  great  cask  of  red  wine,  he 
might  get  envious,  and  envy  is  a most  terrible  thing,  and 
would  spoil  anybody’s  nature.  I certainly  will  not 
allow  Hans’s  nature  to  be  spoiled.  I am  his  best  friend, 
and  I will  always  watch  over  him,  and  see  that  he  is  not 
led  into  any  temptations.  Besides,  if  Hans  came  here, 
he  might  ask  me  to  let  him  have  some  flour  on  credit, 
and  that  I could  not  do.  Flour  is  one  thing,  and  friend- 
ship is  another,  and  they  should  not  be  confused.  Why, 
the  words  are  spelt  differently,  and  mean  quite  different 
things.  Everybody  can  see  that.’ 

“ ‘ How  well  you  talk ! ’ said  the  Miller’s  Wife,  pour- 


228 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


ing  herself  out  a large  glass  of  warm  ale;  1 really,  I feel 
quite  drowsy.  It  is  just  like  being  in  church.’ 

“ * Lots  of  people  act  well,’  answered  the  Miller;  4 but 
very  few  people  talk  well,  which  shows  that  talking  is 
much  the  more  difficult  thing  of  the  two,  and  much  the 
finer  thing  also  ’ ; and  he  looked  sternly  across  the 
table  at  his  little  son,  who  felt  so  ashamed  of  himself 
that  he  hung  his  head  down,  and  grew  quite  scarlet, 
and  began  to  cry  into  his  tea.  However,  he  was  so 
young  that  you  must  excuse  him.  ” 

“ Is  that  the  end  of  the  story?  ” asked  the  Water-rat. 
“ Certainly  not,  ” answered  the  Linnet,  “ that  is  the 
beginning.  ” 

“ Then  you  are  quite  behind  the  age,”  said  the 
Y/ater-rat.  “ Every  good  story-teller  nowadays  starts 
with  the  end,  and  then  goes  on  to  the  beginning,  and 
concludes  with  the  middle.  That  is  the  new  method. 
I heard  all  about  it  the  other  day  from  a critic  who  was 
walking  round  the  pond  with  a young  man.  He  spoke 
of  the  matter  at  great  length,  and  I am  sure  he  must 
have  been  right,  for  he  had  blue  spectacles  and  a bald 
head,  and  whenever  the  young  man  made  any  remark, 
he  always  answered,  ‘ Pooh ! ’ But  pray  go  on  with 
your  story.  I like  the  Miller  immensely.  I have 
all  kinds  of  beautiful  sentiments  myself,  so  there  is  a 
great  sympathy  between  us.  ” 

“ Well,  ” said  the  Linnet,  hopping  now  on  one  leg 
and  now  on  the  other,  “as  soon  as  the  winter  was  over, 


THE  DEVOTED  FRIEND 


229 


and  the  primroses  began  to  open  their  pale  yellow  stars, 
the  Miller  said  to  his  wife  that  he  would  go  down  and 
see  little  Hans. 

“ ‘ Why,  what  a good  heart  you  have ! ’ cried  his 
wife;  ‘you  are  always  thinking  of  others.  And  mind 
you  take  the  big  basket  with  you  for  the  flowers.  * 

“ So  the  Miller  tied  the  sails  of  the  windmill  together 
with  a strong  iron  chain,  and  went  down  the  hill  with 
the  basket  on  his  arm. 

“ ‘ Good  morning,  little  Hans/  said  the  Miller. 

“ ‘ Good  morning/  said  Hans,  leaning  on  his  spade, 
and  smiling  from  ear  to  ear. 

“ ‘ And  how  have  you  been  all  the  winter?’  said  the 
Miller. 

“ ‘ Well,  really/  cried  Hans,  ‘ it  is  very  good  of  you  to 
ask,  very  good  indeed.  I am  afraid  I had  rather  a 
hard  time  of  it,  but  now  the  spring  has  come,  and  I am 
quite  happy,  and  all  my  flowers  are  doing  well.  ’ 

“‘We  often  talked  of  you  during  the  winter,  Hans/ 
said  the  Miller,  ‘ and  wondered  how  you  were  getting 
on.’ 

“ * That  was  kind  of  you/  said  Hans;  ‘ I was  half 
afraid  you  had  forgotten  me. 9 

“‘Hans,  I am  surprised  at  you/  said  the  Miller; 
‘friendship  never  forgets.  That  is  the  wonderful 
thing  about  it,  but  I am  afraid  you  don’t  understand 
the  poetry  of  life.  How  lovely  your  primroses  are 
looking,  by-the-by ! ’ 


230 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


“ ‘ They  are  certainly  very  lovely,’  said  Hans,  ‘ and 
it  is  a most  lucky  thing  for  me  that  I have  so  many. 
I am  going  to  bring  them  into  the  market  and  sell  them 
to  the  Burgomaster’s  daughter,  and  buy  back  my 
wheelbarrow  with  the  money.  ’ 

“‘Buy  back  your  wheelbarrow?  You  don’t  mean 
to  say  you  have  sold  it  ? What  a very  stupid  thing  to 
do!’ 

“ ‘ Well,  the  fact  is,  ’ said  Hans,  ‘ that  I was  obliged 
to.  You  see  the  winter  was  a very  bad  time  for  me, 
and  I really  had  no  money  at  all  to  buy  bread  with.  So 
I first  sold  the  silver  buttons  off  my  Sunday  coat,  and 
then  I sold  my  silver  chain,  and  then  I sold  my  big 
pipe,  and  at  last  I sold  my  wheelbarrow.  But  I am 
going  to  buy  them  all  back  again,  now.  ’ 

“ ‘ Hans,’  said  the  Miller,  ‘ I will  give  you  my 
wheelbarrow.  It  is  not  in  very  good  repair;  indeed, 
one  side  is  gone,  and  there  is  something  wrong  with 
the  wheel-spokes;  but  in  spite  of  that  I will  give  it  to 
you.  I know  it  is  very  generous  of  me,  and  a great 
many  people  would  think  me  extremely  foolish  for 
parting  with  it,  but  I am  not  like  the  rest  of  the  world. 
I think  that  generosity  is  the  essence  of  friendship, 
and,  besides,  I have  got  a new  wheelbarrow  for  myself. 
Yes,  you  may  set  your  mind  at  ease,  I will  give  you  my 
wheelbarrow.’ 

“ ‘ Well,  really,  that  is  generous  of  you,’  said  little 
Hans,  and  his  funny  round  face  glowed  all  over  with 


THE  DEVOTED  FRIEND 


231 


pleasure.  4 I can  easily  put  it  in  repair,  as  I have  a 
plank  of  wood  in  the  house.’ 

“‘A  plank  of  wood!’  said  the  Miller;  ‘why,  that  is 
just  what  I want  for  the  roof  of  my  barn.  There  is  a 
very  large  hole  in  it,  and  the  corn  will  all  get  damp  if  I 
don’t  stop  it  up.  How  lucky  you  mentioned  it!  It  is 
quite  remarkable  how  one  good  action  always  breeds 
another.  I have  given  you  my  wheelbarrow,  and  now 
you  are  going  to  give  me  your  plank.  Of  course,  the 
wheelbarrow  is  worth  far  more  than  the  plank,  but  true 
friendship  never  notices  things  like  that.  Pray  get  it  at 
once,  and  I will  set  to  work  at  my  barn  this  very  day.’ 

44  4 Certainly,’  cried  little  Hans,  and  he  rail  into  the 
shed  and  dragged  the  plank  out. 

44  ‘ It  is  not  a very  big  plank,’  said  the  Miller,  looking 
at  it,  4 and  I am  afraid  that  after  I have  mended  my 
barn-roof  there  won’t  be  any  left  for  you  to  mend  the 
wheelbarrow  with;  but,  of  course,  that  is  not  my  fault. 
And  now,  as  I have  given  you  my  wheelbarrow,  I am 
sure  you  would  like  to  give  me  some  flowers  in  return. 
Here  is  the  basket,  and  mind  you  fill  it  quite  full.’ 

44  4 Quite  full  ? ’ said  little  Hans,  rather  sorrowfully, 
for  it  was  really  a very  big  basket,  and  he  knew  that  if 
he  filled  it  he  would  have  no  flowers  left  for  the  market, 
and  he  was  very  anxious  to  get  his  silver  buttons  back. 

44  4 Well,  really,’  answered  the  Miller,  4 as  I have 
given  you  my  wheelbarrow,  I don’t  think  that  it  is 
much  to  ask  you  for  a few  flowers.  I may  be  wrong, 


232 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


but  I should  have  thought  that  friendship,  true  friend- 
ship, was  quite  free  from  selfishness  of  any  kind.,, 

“ 4 My  dear  friend,  my  best  friend,’  cried  little  Hans, 
4 you  are  welcome  to  all  the  flowers  in  my  garden.  I 
would  much  sooner  have  your  good  opinion  than  my 
silver  buttons,  any  day  ’ ; and  he  ran  and  plucked  all  his 
pretty  primroses,  and  filled  the  Miller’s  basket. 

“ 4 Good-bye,  little  Hans,’  said  the  Miller,  as  he 
went  up  the  hill  with  the  plank  on  his  shoulder,  and  the 
big  basket  in  his  hand. 

“ 4 Good-bye,’  said  little  Hans,  and  he  began  to  dig 
away  quite  merrily,  he  was  so  pleased  about  the 
wheelbarrow. 

44  The  next  day  he  was  nailing  up  some  honeysuckle 
against  the  porch,  when  he  heard  the  Miller’s  voice 
calling. to  him  from  the  road.  So  he  jumped  off  the 
ladder,  and  ran  down  the  garden,  and  looked  over  the 
wall. 

“ There  was  the  Miller  with  a large  sack  of  flour 
on  his  back. 

44  4 Dear  little  Hans,’  said  the  Miller,  4 would  you 
mind  carrying  this  sack  of  flour  for  me  to  market?’ 

“ 4 Oh,  I am  so  sorry,’  said  Hans,  4 but  I am  really 
very  busy  today.  I have  got  all  my  creepers  to  nail  up, 
and  all  my  flowers  to  water,  and  all  my  grass  to  roll.’ 

44  4 Well,  really,’  said  the  Miller,  4 1 think  that, 
considering  that  I am  going  to  give  you  my  wheel- 
barrow, it  is  rather  unfriendly  of  you  to  refuse.’ 


THE  DEVOTED  FRIEND 


233 


44  4 Oh,  don’t  say  that,’  cried  little  Hans  4 1 wouldn’t 
be  unfriendly  for  the  whole  world ’ ; and  he  ran  in  for  his 
cap,  and  trudged  off  with  the  big  sack  on  his  shoulders. 

44  It  was  a very  hot  day,  and  the  road  was  terribly 
dusty,  and  before  Hans  had  reached  the  sixth  mile- 
stone he  was  so  tired  that  he  had  to  sit  down  and  rest. 
However,  he  went  on  bravely,  and  at  last  he  reached  the 
market.  After  he  had  waited  there  some  time,  he  sold 
the  sack  of  flour  for  a very  good  price,  and  then  he 
returned  home  at  once,  for  he  was  afraid  that  if  he 
stopped  too  late  he  might  meet  some  robbers  on  the 
way. 

44  4 It  has  certainly  been  a hard  day,’  said  little  Hans 
to  himself  as  he  was  going  to  bed,  4 but  I am  glad  I did 
not  refuse  the  Miller,  for  he  is  my  best  friend,  and, 
besides,  he  is  going  to  give  me  his  wheelbarrow.’ 

“ Early  the  next  morning  the  Miller  came  down  to 
get  the  money  for  his  sack  of  flour,  but  little  Hans 
was  so  tired  that  he  was  still  in  bed. 

44  4 Upon  my  word,’  said  the  Miller,  4 you  are  very 
lazy.  Really,  considering  that  I am  going  to  give  you 
my  wheelbarrow,  I think  you  might  work  harder. 
Idleness  is  a great  sin,  and  I certainly  don’t  like  any 
of  my  friends  to  be  idle  or  sluggish.  You  must  not 
mind  my  speaking  quite  plainly  to  you.  Of  course  I 
should  not  dream  of  doing  so  if  I were  not  your  friend. 
But  what  is  the  good  of  friendship  if  one  cannot  say 
exactly  what  one  means  ? Anybody  can  say  charming 


234 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


things  and  try  to  please  and  to  flatter,  but  a true  friend 
always  says  unpleasant  things,  and  does  not  mind  giv- 
ing pain.  Indeed,  if  he  is  a really  true  friend  he  prefers 
it,  for  he  knows  that  then  he  is  doing  good.’ 

“ * I am  very  sorry/  said  little  Hans,  rubbing  his 
eyes  and  pulling  off  his  night-cap,  * but  I was  so  tired 
that  I thought  I would  lie  in  bed  for  a little  time,  and 
listen  to  the  birds  singing.  Do  you  know  that  I always 
work  better  after  hearing  the  birds  sing?, 

“ ‘ Well,  I am  glad  of  that/  said  the  Miller,  clapping 
little  Hans  on  the  back,  * for  I want  you  to  come  up  to 
the  mill  as  soon  as  you  are  dressed,  and  mend  my  barn- 
roof  for  me.’ 

“ Poor  little  Hans  was  very  anxious  to  go  and  work 
in  his  garden,  for  his  flowers  had  not  been  watered  for 
two  days,  but  he  did  not  like  to  refuse  the  Miller,  as  he 
was  such  a good  friend  to  him. 

“ * Do  you  think  it  would  be  unfriendly  of  me  if  I 
said  I was  busy  ? ’ he  enquired  in  a shy  and  timid  voice. 

“‘Well,  really/  answered  the  Miller,  ‘I  do  not 
think  it  is  much  to  ask  of  you,  considering  that  I am 
going  to  give  you  my  wheelbarrow;  but  of  course  if 
you  refuse  I will  go  and  do  it  myself.’ 

“‘Oh!  on  no  account/  cried  little  Hans;  and  he 
jumped  out  of  bed,  and  dressed  himself,  and  went  up 
to  the  barn. 

“ He  worked  there  all  day  long,  till  sunset,  and  at 
sunset  the  Miller  came  to  see  how  he  v/as  getting  on. 


THE  DEVOTED  FRIEND 


235 


“ ( Have  you  mended  the  hole  in  the  roof  yet,  little 
Hans  ? 9 cried  the  Miller  in  a cheery  voice'. 

“ ‘ It  is  quite  mended/  answered  little  Hans,  com- 
ing down  the  ladder. 

“ 4 Ah ! 9 said  the  Miller,  4 there  is  no  work  so  delight- 
ful as  the  work  one  does  for  others.’ 

44  ‘ It  is  certainly  a great  privilege  to  hear  you  talk/ 
answered  little  Hans,  sitting  down  and  wiping  his  fore- 
head, 4 a very  great  privilege.  But  I am  afraid  I shall 
never  have  such  beautiful  ideas  as  you  have.’ 

44  4 Oh  ! they  will  come  to  you/  said  the  Miller, 
* but  you  must  take  more  pains.  At  present  you  have 
only  the  practice  of  friendship ; some  day  you  will  have 
the  theory  also.’ 

“ 4 Do  you  really  think  I shall  ? ’ asked  little  Hans. 

44  4 1 have  no  doubt  of  it/  answered  the  Miller;  4 but 
now  that  you  have  mended  the  roof,  you  had  better  go 
home  and  rest,  for  I want  you  to  drive  my  sheep  to  the 
mountain  tomorrow.’ 

44  Poor  little  Hans  was  afraid  to  say  anything  to  this, 
and  early  the  next  morning  the  Miller  brought  his  sheep 
round  to  the  cottage,  and  Hans  started  off  with  them  to 
the  mountain.  It  took  him  the  whole  day  to  get  there 
and  back ; and  when  he  returned  he  was  so  tired  that  he 
went  off  to  sleep  in  his  chair,  and  did  not  wake  up  till 
it  was  broad  daylight. 

44  4 What  a delightful  time  I shall  have  in  my  garden/ 
he  said,  and  he  went  to  work  at  once. 


£36 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


“ But  somehow  he  was  never  able  to  look  after  his 
flowers  at  all,  for  his  friend  the  Miller  was  always  com- 
ing round  and  sending  him  off  on  long  errands,  or 
getting  him  to  help  at  the  mill.  Little  Hans  was 
very  much  distressed  at  times,  as  he  was  afraid  his 
flowers  would  think  he  had  forgotten  them,  but  he  con- 
soled himself  by  the  reflection  that  the  Miller  was  his 
best  friend.  6 Besides,’  he  used  to  say,  * he  is  going  to 
give  me  his  wheelbarrow,  and  that  is  an  act  of  pure 
generosity.’ 

“ So  little  Hans  worked  away  for  the  Miller,  and  the 
Miller  said  all  kinds  of  beautiful  things  about  friend- 
ship, which  Hans  took  down  in  a note-book,  and  used 
to  read  over  at  night,  for  he  was  a very  good  scholar. 

“ Now  it  happened  that  one  evening  little  Hans 
was  sitting  by  his  fireside  when  a loud  rap  came  at  the 
door.  It  was  a very  wild  night,  and  the  wind  was 
blowing  and  roaring  round  the  house  so  terribly  that  at 
first  he  thought  it  was  merely  the  storm.  But  a second 
rap  came,  and  then  a third,  louder  than  either  of  the 
others. 

“ ‘ It  is  some  poor  traveller,’  said  little  Hans  to 
himself,  as  he  ran  to  the  door. 

“ There  stood  the  Miller  with  a lantern  in  one  hand 
and  a big  stick  in  the  other. 

“ 1 Dear  little  Hans,’  cried  the  Miller,  * I am  in  great 
trouble.  My  little  boy  has  fallen  off  a ladder  and  hurt 
himself,  and  I am  going  for  the  Doctor.  But  he  lives 


THE  DEVOTED  FRIEND 


237 


so  far  away,  and  it  is  such  a bad  night,  that  it  has  just 
occurred  to  me  that  it  would  be  much  better  if  you  went 
instead  of  me.  You  know  I am  going  to  give  you  my 
wheelbarrow,  and  so  it  is  only  fair  that  you  should  do 
something  for  me  in  return.’ 

“ ‘ Certainly/  cried  little  Hans ; ‘ I take  it  quite  as  a 
compliment  your  coming  to  me,  and  I will  start  off  at 
once.  But  you  must  lend  me  your  lantern,  as  the 
night  is  so  dark  that  I am  afraid  I might  fall  into  the 
ditch.’ 

“ * I am  very  sorry/  answered  the  Miller,  * but  it  is 
my  new  lantern,  and  it  would  be  a great  loss  to  me  if 
anything  happened  to  it.’ 

“ ‘ Well,  never  mind,  I will  do  without  it/  cried  little 
Hans,  and  he  took  down  his  great  fur-coat,  and  his 
warm  scarlet  cap,  and  tied  a muffler  round  his  throat, 
and  started  off. 

“ What  a dreadful  storm  it  was ! The  night  was  so 
black  that  little  Hans  could  hardly  see,  and  the  wind 
was  so  strong  that  he  could  scarcely  stand.  However, 
he  was  very  courageous,  and  after  he  had  been  walking 
about  three  hours,  he  arrived  at  the  Doctor’s  house, 
and  knocked  at  the  door. 

“ ‘ Who  is  there  ? ’ cried  the  Doctor,  putting  his  head 
out  of  his  bedroom  window. 

“ * Little  Hans,  Doctor.’ 

“ ‘ What  do  you  want,  little  Hans  ? ’ 

“ 1 The  Miller’s  son  has  fallen  from  a ladder,  and 


238 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


has  hurt  himself,  and  the  Miller  wants  you  to  come 
at  once.’ 

“ ‘ All  right!  ’ said  the  Doctor;  and  he  ordered  his 
horse,  and  his  big  boots,  and  his  lantern,  and  came 
downstairs,  and  rode  off  in  the  direction  of  the  Miller’s 
house,  little  Hans  trudging  behind  him. 

“ But  the  storm  grew  worse  and  worse,  and  the  rain 
fell  in  torrents,  and  little  Hans  co.uld  not  see  where  he 
was  going,  or  keep  up  with  the  horse.  At  last  he  lost 
his  way,  and  wandered  off  on  the  moor,  which  was  a 
very  dangerous  place,  as  it  was  full  of  deep  holes,  and 
there  poor  little  Hans  was  drowmed.  His  body  was 
found  the  next  day  by  some  goatherds,  floating  in  a 
great  pool  of  water,  and  was  brought  back  by  them  to 
the  cottage. 

“ Everybody  went  to  little  Hans’s  funeral  as  he  was 
so  popular,  and  the  Miller  was  the  chief  mourner. 

“ ‘ As  I was  his  best  friend,’  said  the  Miller,  ‘ it  is 
only  fair  that  I should  have  the  best  place’;  so  he 
walked  at  the  head  of  the  procession  in  a long  black 
cloak,  and  every  now  and  then  he  wiped  his  eyes  with  a 
big  pocket-handkerchief. 

“ ‘Little  Hans  is  certainly  a great  loss  to  every  one,’ 
said  the  Blacksmith,  when  the  funeral  was  over,  and 
they  were  all  seated  comfortably  in  the  inn,  drinking 
spiced  wine  and  eating  sweet  cakes. 

“ ‘ A great  loss  to  me  at  any  rate,’  answered  the 
Miller;  ‘ why,  I had  as  good  as  given  him  my  wheel- 


THE  DEVOTED  FRIEND 


239 


barrow,  and  now  I really  don’t  know  what  to  do  with  it. 
It  is  very  much  in  my  way  at  home,  and  it  is  in  such  bad 
repair  that  I could  not  get  anything  for  it  if  I sold  it. 
I will  certainly  take  care  not  to  give  away  anything 
again.  One  always  suffers  for  being  generous.’  ” 

“ Well  ? ” said  the  Water-rat  after  a long  pause. 

“ Weil,  that  is  the  end,”  said  the  Linnet. 

“ But  what  became  of  the  Miller  ? ” asked  the  Water- 
rat. 

“Oh!  I really  don’t  know,”  replied  the  Linnet; 
“ and  I am  sure  that  I don’t  care.” 

“ It  is  quite  evident  then  that  you  have  no  sympathy 
in  your  nature,”  said  the  Water-rat. 

“ I am  afraid  you  don’t  quite  see  the  moral  of  the 
story,”  remarked  the  Linnet. 

“ The  what?  ” screamed  the  Water-rat. 

“ The  moral.” 

“ Do  you  mean  to  say  that  the  story  has  a moral?” 

“ Certainly,”  said  the  Linnet. 

“ Well,  really,”  said  the  Water-rat,  in  a very  angry 
manner,  “ I think  you  should  have  told  me  that  before 
you  began.  If  you  had  done  so,  I certainly  would  not 
have  listened  to  you ; in  fact,  I should  have  said  4 Pooh,’ 
like  the  critic.  However,  I can  say  it  now”;  so  he 
shouted  out  “ Pooh  ” at  the  top  of  his  voice,  gave  a 
whisk  with  his  tail,  and  went  back  into  his  hole. 

“ And  how  do  you  like  the  Water-rat?”  asked  the 
Duck,  who  came  paddling  up  some  minutes  afterwards. 


240 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


He  has  a great  many  good  points,  but  for  my  own 
part  I have  a mother’s  feelings,  and  I can  never  look  at 
a confirmed  bachelor  without  the  tears  coming  into 
my  eyes.  ” 

“ I am  rather  afraid  that  I have  annoyed  him,” 
answered  the  Linnet.  “ The  fact  is,  that  I told  him  a 
story  with  a moral.” 

“ Ah!  that  is  always  a very  dangerous  thing  to  do,” 
said  the  Duck. 

And  I quite  agree  with  her* 


THE  REMARKABLE  ROCKET 


THE  REMARKABLE  ROCKET 


HE  King’s  son  was  going  to  be  married,  so  there 


were  general  rejoicings.  He  had  waited  a 
whole  year  for  his  bride,  and  at  last  she  had  arrived. 
She  was  a Russian  Princess,  and  had  driven  all  the 
way  from  Finland  in  a sledge  drawn  by  six  reindeer. 
The  sledge  was  shaped  like  a great  golden  swan,  and 
between  the  swan’s  wings  lay  the  little  Princess  herself. 
Her  long  ermine  cloak  reached  right  down  to  her  feet, 
on  her  head  was  a tiny  cap  of  silver  tissue,  and  she  was 
as  pale  as  the  Snow  Palace  in  which  she  had  always 
lived.  So  pale  was  she  that  as  she  drove  through  the 
streets  all  the  people  wondered.  *“  She  is  like  a white 
rose ! ” they  cried,  and  they  threw  down  flowers  on  her 
from  the  balconies. 

At  the  gate  of  the  Castle  the  Prince  was  waiting  to 
receive  her.  He  had  dreamy  violet  eyes,  and  his  hair 
was  like  fine  gold.  When  he  saw  her  he  sank  upon 
one  knee,  and  kissed  her  hand. 

“ Your  picture  was  beautiful,”  he  murmured,  “ but 
you  are  more  beautiful  than  your  picture” ; and  the  little 
Princess  blushed. 

“ She  was  like  a white  rose  before,”  said  a young 


243 


244 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


Page  to  his  neighbour,  “ but  she  is  like  a red  rose  now”; 
and  the  whole  Court  was  delighted. 

For  the  next  three  days  everybody  went  about  saying, 
“ White  rose,  Red  rose,  Red  rose,  White  rose” ; and  the 
King  gave  orders  that  the  Page’s  salary  was  to  be 
doubled.  As  he  received  no  salary  at  all  this  was  not 
of  much  use  to  him,  but  it  was  considered  a great 
honour,  and  was  duly  published  in  the  Court  Gazette , 

When  the  three  days  were  over  the  marriage  was 
celebrated.  It  was  a magnificent  ceremony,  and  the 
bride  and  bridegroom  walked  hand  in  hand  under 
a canopy  of  purple  velvet  embroidered  with  little 
pearls.  Then  there  was  a State  Banquet,  which  lasted 
for  five  hours.  The  Prince  and  Princess  sat  at  the 
top  of  the  Great  Hall  and  drank  out  of  a cup  of  clear 
crystal.  Only  true  lovers  could  drink  out  of  this  cup, 
for  if  false  lips  touched  it,  it  grew  grey  and  dull  and 
cloudy. 

“ It  is  quite  clear  that  they  love  each  other,  ” said 
the  little  Page,  “ as  clear  as  crystal ! ” and  the  King 
doubled  his  salary  a second  time.  “ What  an  hon- 
our ! ” cried  all  the  courtiers. 

After  the  Banquet  there  was  to  be  a Ball.  The  bride 
and  bridegroom  were  to  dance  the  Rose-dance  together, 
and  the  King  had  promised  to  play  the  flute.  He 
played  very  badly,  but  no  one  had  ever  dared  to  tell 
him  so,  because  he  was  the  King.  Indeed,  he  knew 


THE  REMARKABLE  ROCKET 


245 


only  two  airs,  and  was  never  quite  certain  which  one  he 
was  playing ; but  it  made  no  matter,  for,  whatever  he 
did,  everybody  cried  out,  “ Charming ! Charming ! ” 

The  last  item  on  the  programme  was  a grand  display 
of  fireworks,  to  be  let  off  exactly  at  midnight.  The 
little  Princess  had  never  seen  a firework  in  her  life,  so 
the  King  had  given  orders  that  the  Royal  Pyrotechnist 
should  be  in  attendance  on  the  day  of  her  marriage. 

“ What  are  fireworks  like  ? ” she  had  asked  the 
Prince,  one  morning,  as  she  was  walking  on  the  terrace. 

“ They  are  like  the  Aurora  Borealis,”  said  the  King, 
who  always  answered  questions  that  were  addressed  to 
other  people,  “ only  much  more  natural.  I prefer  them 
to  stars  myself,  as  you  always  know  when  they  are  going 
to  appear,  and  they  are  as  delightful  as  my  own  flute- 
playing. You  must  certainly  see  them.” 

So  at  the  end  of  the  King’s  garden  a great  stand  had 
been  set  up,  and  as  soon  as  the  Royal  Pyrotechnist 
had  put  everything  in  its  proper  place,  the  fireworks  be- 
gan to  talk  to  each  other. 

“ The  world  is  certainly  very  beautiful,”  cried  a little 
Squib.  “ Just  look  at  those  yellow  tulips.  Why ! if 
they  were  real  crackers  they  could  not  be  lovelier.  I 
am  very  glad  I have  travelled.  Travel  improves  the 
mind  wonderfully,  and  does  away  with  all  one’s 
prejudices.” 

“ The  King’s  garden  is  not  the  world,  you  foolish 


246 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


Squib,”  said  a big  Roman  Candle;  “ the  world  is  an 
enormous  place,  and  it  would  take  you  three  days  to 
see  it  thoroughly.” 

[ “ Any  place  you  love  is  the  world  to  you,”  exclaimed 
a pensive  Catherine-wheel,  who  had  been  attached 
to  an  old  deal  box  in  early  life,  and  prided  herself  on  her 
broken  heart;  “ but  love  is  not  fashionable  any  more; 
the  poets  have  killed  it.  They  wrote  so  much  about  it 
that  nobody  believed  them,  and  I am  not  surprised. 
True  love  suffers,  and  is  silent.  I remember  myself 
once — But  it  is  no  matter  now.  Romance  is  a thing  of 
the  past.” 

“ Nonsense!”  said  the  Roman  Candle,  “Romance 
never  dies.  It  is  like  the  moon,  and  lives  forever.  The 
bride  and  bridegroom,  for  instance,  love  each  other  very 
dearly.  I heard  all  about  them  this  morning  from  a 
brown-paper  cartridge,  who  happened  to  be  staying 
in  the  same  drawer  as  myself,  and  knew  the  latest 
Court  news.  ” 

But  the  Catherine-wheel  shook  her  head.  “ Ro- 
mance is  dead,  Romance  is  dead,  Romance  is  dead,” 
she  murmured.  She  was  one  of  those  people  who  think 
that,  if  you  say  the  same  thing  over  and  over  a great 
many  times,  it  becomes  true  in  the  end. 

Suddenly,  a sharp,  dry  cough  was  heard,  and  they  all 
looked  round. 

It  came  from  a tall,  supercilious-looking  Rocket,  who 
was  tied  to  the  end  of  a long  stick.  He  always  coughed 


THE  REMARKABLE  ROCKET 


247 


before  he  made  any  observation,  so  as  to  attract 
attention. 

“Ahem!  ahem!”  he  said,  and  everybody  listened 
except  the  poor  Catherine-wheel,  who  was  still  shaking 
her  head,  and  murmuring,  “ Romance  is  dead.  ” 

“Order!  Order!”  cried  out  a Cracker.  He  was 
something  of  a politician,  and  had  always  taken  a 
prominent  part  in  the  local  elections,  so  he  knew  the 
proper  Parliamentary  expressions  to  use. 

“ Quite  dead,”  whispered  the  Catherine-wheel,  and 
she  went  off  to  sleep. 

As  soon  as  there  was  perfect  silence,  the  Rocket 
coughed  a third  time  and  began.  He  spoke  with  a 
very  slow,  distinct  voice,  as  if  he  was  dictating  his 
memoirs,  and  always  looked  over  the  shoulder  of  the 
person  to  whom  he  was  talking.  In  fact,  he  had  a most 
distinguished  manner. 

“ How  fortunate  it  is  for  the  King’s  son,”  he  re- 
marked, “ that  he  is  to  be  married  on  the  very  day  on 
which  I am  to  be  let  off.  Really,  if  it  had  been  arranged 
beforehand,  it  could  not  have  turned  out  better  for 
him;  but  Princes  are  always  lucky.” 

“Dear  me ! ” said  the  little  Squib,  “ I thought  it  was 
quite  the  other  way,  and  that  we  were  to  be  let  off  in 
the  Prince’s  honour.” 

“ It  may  be  so  with  you,”  he  answered;  “ indeed,  I 
have  no  doubt  that  it  is,  but  with  me  it  is  different.  I 
am  a very  remarkable  Rocket,  and  come  of  remarkable 


248 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


parents.  My  mother  was  the  most  celebrated  Catherine- 
wheel  of  her  day,  and  was  renowned  for  her  graceful 
dancing.  When  she  made  her  great  public  appearance 
she  spun  round  nineteen  times  before  she  went  out, 
and  each  time  that  she  did  so  she  threw  into  the  air 
seven  pink  stars.  She  was  three  feet  and  a half  in 
diameter,  and  made  of  the  very  best  gunpowder.  My 
father  was  a Rocket  like  myself,  and  of  French  extrac- 
tion. He  flew  so  high  that  the  people  were  afraid  that  he 
would  never  come  down  again.  He  did,  though,  for  he 
was  of  a kindly  disposition,  and  he  made  a most  brilliant 
descent  in  a shower  of  golden  rain.  The  newspapers 
wrote  about  his  performance  in  very  flattering  terms. 
Indeed,  the  Court  Gazette  called  him  a triumph  of 
Pylotechnic  art.,, 

“ Pyrotechnic,  Pyrotechnic,  you  mean,”  said  a 
Bengal  Light;  “ I know  it  is  Pyrotechnic,  for  I saw 
it  written  on  my  own  canister.” 

“ Well,  I said  Pylotechnic,”  answered  the  Rocket, 
in  a severe  tone  of  voice,  and  the  Bengal  Light  felt  so 
crushed  that  he  began  at  once  to  bully  the  little  Squibs, 
in  order  to  show  that  he  was  still  a person  of  some 
importance. 

“ I was  saying,”  continued  the  Rocket,  “ I was 
saying — What  was  I saying  ? ” 

“ You  were  talking  about  yourself,”  replied  the 
Roman  Candle. 

“ Of  course;  I knew  I was  discussing  some  interest- 


THE  REMARKABLE  ROCKET 


249 


ing  subject  when  I was  so  rudely  interrupted.  I hate 
rudeness  and  bad  manners  of  every  kind,  for  I am 
extremely  sensitive.  No  one  in  the  whole  world  is  so 
sensitive  as  I am,  I am  quite  sure  of  that.” 

“ What  is  a sensitive  person?”  said  the  Cracker  to 
the  Roman  Candle. 

‘‘A  person  who,  because  he  has  corns  himself, 
always  treads  on  other  peopled  toes,”  answered  the 
Roman  Candle  in  a low  whisper;  and  the  Cracker 
nearly  exploded  with  laughter. 

“ Pray,  what  are  you  laughing  at?”  enquired  the 
Rocket;  “ I am  not  laughing.  ” 

“ I am  laughing  because  I am  happy,”  replied  the 
Cracker. 

“ That  is  a very  selfish  reason,”  said  the  Rocket 
angrily.  “ What  right  have  you  to  be  happy  ? You 
should  be  thinking  about  others.  In  fact,  you  should 
be  thinking  about  me.  I am  always  thinking  about  my- 
self, and  I expect  everybody  else  to  do  the  same.  That 
is  what  is  called  sympathy.  It  is  a beautiful  virtue, 
and  I possess  it  in  a high  degree.  Suppose,  for  instance, 
anything  happened  to  me  tonight,  what  a misfortune 
that  would  be  for  every  one ! The  Prince  and  Princess 
would  never  be  happy  again,  their  whole  married  life 
would  be  spoiled;  and  as  for  the  King,  I know  he  would 
not  get  over  it.  Really,  when  I begin  to  reflect  on 
the  importance  of  my  position,  I am  almost  moved  to 
tears.” 


250 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


“ If  you  want  to  give  pleasure  to  others,”  cried  the 
Roman  Candle,  “ you  had  better  keep  yourself  dry.” 
“ Certainly,”  exclaimed  the  Bengal  Light,  who  was 
now  in  better  spirits;  “ that  is  only  common-sense.” 

“ Common-sense,  indeed ! ” said  the  Rocket  indig- 
nantly; “ you  forget  that  I am  very  uncommon,  and  very 
remarkable.  Why,  anybody  can  have  common-sense, 
provided  that  they  have  no  imagination.  But  I have 
imagination,  for  I never  think  of  things  as  they  really 
are;  I always  think  of  them  as  being  quite  different. 
As  for  keeping  myself  dry,  there  is  evidently  no  one 
here  who  can  at  all  appreciate  an  emotional  nature. 
Fortunately  for  myself,  I don’t  care.  The  only  thing 
that  sustains  one  through  life  is  the  consciousness  of  the 
immense  inferiority  of  everybody  else,  and  this  is  a 
feeling  that  I have  always  cultivated.  But  none  of  you 
have  any  hearts.  Here  you  are  laughing  and  making 
merry  just  as  if  the  Prince  and  Princess  had  not  just 
been  married.” 

“ Well,  really,”  exclaimed  a small  Fire-balloon, 
“ why  not  ? It  is  a most  joyful  occasion,  and  when  I 
soar  up  into  the  air  I intend  to  tell  the  stars  all  about  it. 
You  will  see  them  twinkle  when  I talk  to  them  about 
the  pretty  bride.” 

“ Ah!  what  a trivial  view  of  life!  ” said  the  Rocket; 
“ but  it  is  only  what  I expected.  There  is  nothing  in  you ; 
you  are  hollow  and  empty.  Why,  perhaps  the  Prince 
and  Princess  may  go  to  live  in  a country  vjiere  there  is 


THE  REMARKABLE  ROCKET 


251 


a deep  river,  and  perhaps  they  may  have  one  only  son, 
a little  fair-haired  boy  with  violet  eyes  like  the  Prince 
himself ; and  perhaps  some  day  he  may  go  out  to  walk 
with  his  nurse;  and  perhaps  the  nurse  may  go  to  sleep 
under  a great  elder-tree ; and  perhaps  the  little  boy  may 
fall  into  the  deep  river  and  be  drowned.  What  a terri- 
ble misfortune!  Poor  people,  to  lose  their  only  son! 
It  is  really  too  dreadful ! I shall  never  get  over  it.” 

“ But  they  have  not  lost  their  only  son,”  said  the 
Roman  Candle;  “ no  misfortune  has  happened  to  them 
at  all.” 

“I  never  said  that  they  had,”  replied  the  Rocket; 
“ I said  that  they  might.  If  they  had  lost  their  only 
son  there  would  be  no  use  in  saying  anything  more 
about  the  matter.  I hate  people  who  cry  over  spilt 
milk.  But  when  I think  that  they  might  lose  their 
only  son,  I certainly  am  very  much  affected.” 

“ You  certainly  are!  ” cried  the  Bengal  Light.  “ In 
fact,  you  are  the  most  affected  person  I ever  met.” 

“ You  are  the  rudest  person  I ever  met,”  said  the 
Rocket,  “ and  you  cannot  understand  my  friendship 
for  the  Prince.” 

“ Why,  you  don’t  even  know  him,”  growled  the 
Roman  Candle. 

“ I never  said  I knew  him,”  answered  the  Rocket. 
“ I daresay  that  if  I knew  him  I should  not  be  his  friend 
at  all.  It  is  a very  dangerous  thing  to  know  one’s 
friends.” 


252 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


“ You  had  really  better  keep  yourself  dry,”  said  the 
Fire-balloon.  “ That  is  the  important  thing.” 

“ Very  important  for  you,  I have  no  doubt,”  answered 
the  Rocket,  “but  I shall  weep  if  I choose” ; and  he  actu- 
ally burst  into  real  tears,  which  flowed  down  his  stick 
like  raindrops,  and  nearly  drowned  two  little  beetles, 
who  were  just  thinking  of  setting  up  house  together, 
and  were  looking  for  a nice  dry  spot  to  live  in. 

“ He  must  have  a truly  romantic  nature,”  said  the 
Catherine-wheel,  “ for  he  weeps  when  there  is  nothing 
at  all  to  weep  about  ” ; and  she  heaved  a deep  sigh,  and 
thought  about  the  deal  box. 

But  the  Roman  Candle  and  the  Bengal  Light  were 
quite  indignant,  and  kept  saying,  “ Humbug ! humbug ! ” 
at  the  top  of  their  voices.  They  were  extremely  prac- 
tical, and  whenever  they  objected  to  anything  they 
called  it  humbug. 

Then  the  moon  rose  like  a wonderful  silver  shield; 
and  the  stars  began  to  shine,  and  a sound  of  music 
came  from  the  palace. 

The  Prince  and  Princess  were  leading  the  dance. 
They  danced  so  beautifully  that  the  tall  white  lilies 
peeped  in  at  the  window  and  watched  them,  and  the 
great  red  poppies  nodded  their  heads  and  beat  time. 

Then  ten  o’clock  struck,  and  then  eleven,  and  then 
twelve,  and  at  the  last  stroke  of  midnight  every  one 
came  out  on  the  terrace,  and  the  King  sent  for  the 
Royal  Pyrotechnist. 


THE  REMARKABLE  ROCKET 


253 


“ Let  the  fireworks  begin,”  said  the  King;  and  the 
Royal  Pyrotechnist  made  a low  bow,  and  marched 
down  to  the  end  of  the  garden.  He  had  six  attendants 
with  him,  each  of  whom  carried  a lighted  torch  at  the 
end  of  a long  pole. 

It  was  certainly  a magnificent  display. 

Whizz!  Whizz!  went  the  Catherine-wheel,  as  she 
spun  round  and  round.  Boom ! Boom ! went  the  Roman 
Candle.  Then  the  Squibs  danced  all  over  the  place, 
and  the  Bengal  Lights  made  everything  look  scarlet. 
“ Good-bye,”  cried  the  Fire-balloon,  as  he  soared  away, 
dropping  tiny  blue  sparks.  Bang ! Bang ! answered  the 
Crackers,  who  were  enjoying  themselves  immensely. 
Every  one  was  a great  success  except  the  Remarkable 
Rocket.  He  was  so  damp  with  crying  that  he  could  not 
go  off  at  all.  The  best  thing  in  him  was  the  gunpowder, 
and  that  was  so  wet  with  tears  that  it  was  of  no  use. 
All  his  poor  relations,  to  whom  he  would  never  speak, 
except  with  a sneer,  shot  up  into  the  sky  like  wonder- 
ful golden  flowers  with  blossoms  of  fire.  Huzza ! 
Huzza ! cried  the  Court ; and  the  little  Princess  laughed 
with  pleasure. 

“ I suppose  they  are  reserving  me  for  some  grand 
occasion,”  said  the  Rocket;  “ no  doubt  that  is  what 
it  means,”  and  he  looked  more  supercilious  than 
ever. 

The  next  day  the  workmen  came  to  put  everything 
tidy.  “ This  is  evidently  a deputation,”  said  the 


254 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


Rocket;  “ I will  receive  them  with  becoming  dignity  ”; 
so  he  put  his  nose  in  the  air,  and  began  to  frown  severely 
as  if  he  were  thinking  about  some  very  important 
subject.  But  they  took  no  notice  of  him  at  all  till  they 
were  just  going  away.  Then  one  of  them  caught  sight 
of  him.  “ Hallo!  ” he  cried,  “ what  a bad  rocket!  ” 
and  he  threw  him  over  the  wall  into  the  ditch. 

“ Bad  Rocket  ? Bad  Rocket  ? ” he  said,  as  he 
whirled  through  the  air;  “ impossible ! Grand  Rocket, 
that  is  what  the  man  said.  Bad  and  Grand  sound 
very  much  the  same,  indeed  they  often  are  the  same  ” ; 
and  he  fell  into  the  mud. 

“ It  is  not  comfortable  here,”  he  remarked,  “ but 
no  doubt  it  is  some  fashionable  watering-place,  and  they 
have  sent  me  away  to  recruit  my  health.  My  nerves 
are  certainly  very  much  shattered,  and  I require  rest.” 

Then  a little  Frog,  with  bright  jewelled  eyes,  and 
a green  mottled  coat,  swam  up  to  him. 

“A  new  arrival,  I see!”  said  the  Frog.  “Well, 
after  all  there  is  nothing  like  mud.  Give  me  rainy 
weather  and  a ditch,  and  I am  quite  happy.  Do  you 
think  it  will  be  a wet  afternoon?  I am  sure  I hope 
so,  but  the  sky  is  quite  blue  and  cloudless.  What  a 
pity ! ” 

“ Ahem!  ahem!  ” said  the  Rocket,  and  he  began  to 
cough. 

“ What  a delightful  voice  you  have ! ” cried  the  Frog. 
“ Really  it  is  quite  like  a croak,  and  croaking  is  of 


THE  REMARKABLE  ROCKET 


255 


course  the  most  musical  sound  in  the  world.  You  will 
hear  our  glee-club  this  evening.  We  sit  in  the  old  duck- 
pond  close  by  the  farmer’s  house,  and  as  soon  as  the 
moon  rises  we  begin.  It  is  so  entrancing  that  every- 
body lies  awake  to  listen  to  us.  In  fact,  it  was  only 
yesterday  that  I heard  the  farmer’s  wife  say  to  her 
mother  that  she  could  not  get  a wink  of  sleep  at  night 
on  account  of  us.  It  is  most  gratifying  to  find  oneself 
so  popular.” 

“ Ahem ! ahem ! ” said  the  Rocket  angrily.  He  was 
very  much  annoyed  that  he  could  not  get  a word  in. 

“ A delightful  voice,  certainly,”  continued  the 
Frog;  “ I hope  you  will  come  over  to  the  duck-pond. 
I am  off  to  look  for  my  daughters.  I have  six  beauti- 
ful daughters,  and  I am  so  afraid  the  Pike  may  meet 
them.  He  is  a perfect  monster,  and  would  have  no 
hesitation  in  breakfasting  off  them.  Well,  good-bye;  I 
have  enjoyed  our  conversation  very  much  I assure 
you.” 

“Conversation,  indeed!”  said  the  Rocket.  “You 
have  talked  the  whole  time  yourself.  That  is  not 
conversation.” 

“ Somebody  must  listen,”  answered  the  Frog,  “ and 
I like  to  do  all  the  talking  myself.  It  saves  time,  and 
prevents  arguments.’* 

“ But  I like  arguments,”  said  the  Rocket. 

“ I hope  not,”  said  the  Frog  complacently.  “ Argu- 
ments are  extremely  vulgar,  for  everybody  in  good 


256 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


society  holds  exactly  the  same  opinions.  Good-bye  a 
second  time;  I see  my  daughters  in  the  distance ”;  and 
the  little  Frog  swam  away. 

“ You  are  a very  irritating  person,”  said  the  Rocket, 
“ and  very  ill-bred.  I hate  people  who  talk  about 
themselves,  as  you  do,  when  one  wants  to  talk  about 
oneself,  as  I do.  It  is  what  I call  selfishness,  and  self- 
ishness is  a most  detestable  thing,  especially  to  any 
one  of  my  temperament,  for  I am  well  known  for  my 
sympathetic  nature.  In  fact,  you  should  take  example 
by  me;  you  could  not  possibly  have  a better  model. 
Now  that  you  have  the  chance  you  had  better  avail 
yourself  of  it,  for  I am  going  back  to  Court  almost 
immediately.  I am  a great  favourite  at  Court;  in  fact, 
the  Prince  and  Princess  were  married  yesterday  in  my 
honour.  Of  course  you  know  nothing  of  these  matters, 
for  you  are  a provincial.” 

“ There  is  no  good  talking  to  him,”  said  a Dragon- 
fly, who  was  sitting  on  the  top  of  a large  brown  bulrush ; 
“ no  good  at  all,  for  he  has  gone  away.” 

“ Well,  that  is  his  loss,  not  mine,”  answered  the 
Rocket.  “ I am  not  going  to  stop  talking  to  him  merely 
because  he  pays  no  attention.  I like  hearing  myself 
talk.  It  is  one  of  my  greatest  pleasures.  I often  have 
long  conversations  all  by  myself,  and  I am  so  clever 
that  sometimes  I don’t  understand  a single  word  of 
what  I am  saying.” 

“ Then  you  should  certainly  lecture  on  Philosophy,” 


THE  REMARKABLE  ROCKET 


257 


said  the  Dragon-fly;  and  he  spread  a pair  of  lovely 
gauze  wings  and  soared  away  into  the  sky. 

“How  very  silly  of  him  not  to  stay  here!”  said 
the  Rocket.  “ I am  sure  that  he  has  not  often  got 
such  a chance  of  improving  his  mind.  However,  I 
don’t  care  a bit.  Genius  like  mine  is  sure  to  be  appre- 
ciated some  day” ; and  he  sank  down  a little  deeper  into 
the  mud. 

After  some  time  a large  White  Duck  swam  up  to  him. 
She  had  yellow  legs,  and  webbed  feet,  and  was  consid- 
ered a great  beauty  on  account  of  her  waddle. 

“ Quack,  quack,  quack,”  she  said.  “ What  a curious 
shape  you  are ! May  I ask  were  you  born  like  that,  or 
is  it  the  result  of  an  accident?” 

“ It  is  quite  evident  that  you  have  always  lived  in  the 
country,”  answered  the  Rocket,  “ otherwise  you  would 
know  who  I am.  However,  I excuse  your  ignorance.  It 
would  be  unfair  to  expect  other  people  to  be  as  remark- 
able as  oneself.  You  will  no  doubt  be  surprised  to 
hear  that  I can  fly  up  into  the  sky,  and  come  down  in  a 
shower  of  golden  rain.” 

“ I don’t  think  much  of  that,”  said  the  Duck,  “ as  I 
cannot  see  what  use  it  is  to  any  one.  Now,  if  you 
could  plough  the  fields  like  the  ox,  or  draw  a cart  like 
the  horse,  or  look  after  the  sheep  like  the  collie-dog, 
that  would  be  something.” 

“ My  good  creature,”  cried  the  Rocket  in  a very 
haughty  tone  of  voice,  “ I see  that  you  belong  to  the 

R 


258 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


lower  orders.  A person  of  my  position  is  never  useful. 
We  have  certain  accomplishments,  and  that  is  more 
than  sufficient.  I have  no  sympathy  myself  with  in- 
dustry of  any  kind,  least  of  all  with  such  industries  as 
you  seem  to  recommend.  Indeed,  I have  always  been 
of  opinion  that  hard  work  is  simply  the  refuge  of  people 
who  have  nothing  whatever  to  do.” 

“ Well,  well,”  said  the  Duck,  who  was  of  a very 
peaceful  disposition,  and  never  quarrelled  with  any  one, 
“ everybody  has  different  tastes.  I hope,  at  any  rate, 
that  you  are  going  to  take  up  your  residence  here.” 

“ Oh  dear  no ! ” cried  the  Rocket.  “ I am  merely  a 
visitor,  a distinguished  visitor.  The  fact  is  that  I find 
this  place  rather  tedious.  There  is  neither  society  here 
nor  solitude.  In  fact,  it  is  essentially  suburban.  I 
shall  probably  go  back  to  Court,  for  I know  that  I am 
destined  to  make  a sensation  in  the  world.” 

“ I had  thoughts  of  entering  public  life  once  myself,” 
remarked  the  Duck;  “ there  are  so  many  things  that 
need  reforming.  Indeed,  I took  the  chair  at  a meeting 
some  time  ago,  and  we  passed  resolutions  condemning 
everything  that  we  did  not  like.  However,  they  did 
not  seem  to  have  much  effect.  Now  I go  in  for  domes- 
ticity, and  look  after  my  family.” 

“ I am  made  for  public  life,”  said  the  Rocket,  “ and 
so  are  all  my  relations,  even  the  humblest  of  them. 
Whenever  we  appear  we  excite  great  attention.  I have 
not  actually  appeared  myself,  but  when  I do  so  it  will 


THE  REMARKABLE  ROCKET 


259 


be  a magnificent  sight.  As  for  domesticity,  it  ages  one 
rapidly,  and  distracts  one’s  mind  from  higher  things.” 

“ Ah!  the  higher  things  of  life,  how  fine  they  are!  ” 
said  the  Duck;  “and  that  reminds  me  how  hungry 
I feel”;  and  she  swam  away  down  the  stream,  saying, 
“ Quack,  quack,  quack.” 

“ Come  back ! come  back ! ” screamed  the  Rocket, 
“ I have  a great  deal  to  say  to  you  ” ; but  the  Duck  paid 
no  attention  to  him.  “ I am  glad  that  she  has  gone,” 
he  said  to  himself;  “ she  has  a decidedly  middle-class 
mind,”  and  he  sank  a little  deeper  still  into  the  mud, 
and  began  to  think  about  the  loneliness  of  genius, 
when  suddenly  two  little  boys  in  white  smocks  came 
running  down  the  bank,  with  a kettle  and  some  fagots. 

“ This  must  be  the  deputation,”  said  the  Rocket,  and 
he  tried  to  look  very  dignified. 

“ Hallo ! ” cried  one  of  the  boys,  “ look  at  this  old 
stick ! I wonder  how  it  came  here  ” ; and  he  picked 
the  Rocket  out  of  the  ditch. 

“ Old  stick!  ” said  the  Rocket;  “ impossible!  Gold 
Stick,  that  is  what  he  said.  Gold  Stick  is  very  compli- 
mentary. In  fact,  he  mistakes  me  for  one  of  the  Court 
dignitaries ! ” 

“ Let  us  put  it  into  the  fire ! ” said  the  other  boy;  “ it 
will  help  to  boil  the  kettle.” 

So  they  piled  the  fagots  together,  and  put  the  Rocket 
on  top,  and  lit  the  fire. 

“ This  is  magnificent,”  cried  the  Rocket;  “ they  are 


260 


A HOUSE  OF  POMEGRANATES 


going  to  let  me  off  in  broad  daylight,  so  that  every  one 
can  see  me.” 

“We  will  go  to  sleep  now,”  they  said,  “ and  when 
we  wake  up  the  kettle  will  be  boiled” ; and  they  lay  down 
on  the  grass,  and  shut  their  eyes. 

The  Rocket  was  very  damp,  so  he  took  a long  time  to 
burn.  At  last,  however,  the  fire  caught  him. 

“ Now  I am  going  off!  ” he  cried,  and  he  made  him- 
self very  stiff  and  straight.  “ I know  I shall  go  much 
higher  than  the  stars,  much  higher  than  the  moon, 
much  higher  than  the  sun.  In  fact,  I shall  go  so  high 
that ” 

Fizz ! Fizz ! Fizz ! and  he  went  straight  up  into  the  air. 

“ Delightful!  ” he  cried,  “I  shall  go  on  like  this 
forever.  What  a success  I am!  ” 

But  nobody  saw  him. 

Then  he  began  to  feel  a curious  tingling  sensation 
all  over  him. 

“ Now  I am  going  to  explode,”  he  cried.  “ I shall 
set  the  whole  world  on  fire,  and  make  such  a noise  that 
nobody  will  talk  about  anything  else  for  a whole  year.” 
And  he  certainly  did  explode.  Bang!  Bang!  Bang! 
went  the  gunpowder.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it. 

But  nobody  heard  him,  not  even  the  two  little  boys, 
for  they  were  sound  asleep. 

Then  all  that  was  left  of  him  was  the  stick,  and  this 
fell  down  on  the  back  of  a Goose  who  was  taking  a 
walk  by  the  side  of  the  ditch. 


THE  REMARKABLE  ROCKET 


261 


“ Good  heavens ! ” cried  the  Goose.  “ It  is  going  to 
rain  sticks” ; and  she  rushed  into  the  water. 

“ I knew  I should  create  a great  sensation,”  gasped 
the  Rocket,  and  he  went  out. 


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